Sitters
by MirrorMarch
Summary: Having a baby in the house can be a hassle, but for Noctis and Luna, it's downright exhausting. Determined to give them a break, Ignis steps in and offers to babysit their young daughter while they take a much-needed vacation. With Prompto and Gladio to help him out, what could possibly go wrong?
1. Vacation

**Here I am with my second fanfiction ever, and oh look! It's another one for FFXV. I'm totally in love with that game! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original FFXV characters, settings, concepts, or recip-ehs.**

"Sorry about the noise last night, Specs," Noctis apologized, sounding sheepish and exhausted, "she wouldn't sleep again."

Ignis glanced up at the young king from the report he'd been scanning over, and arched one eyebrow over the rim of his spectacles at his long-time friend's disheveled appearance. Noctis looked like a train wreck. His hair—usually so immaculately styled and maintained—stuck out in every conceivable direction, his eyes looked dull and were rimmed with red, while dark, purple-blue shadows stood out below them. His skin was pale, his clothes were wrinkled past the point of a raisin, and a black vestige of stubble dusted his jaw.

Ignis reflected with equal parts bitterness and amusement that the last time he had seen his charge in such a state had been directly after his battle with Ardyn.

"It's quite alright, Noct," he assured the king with his usual calm stoicism, "I could hardly hear her from my room. My sleep was largely undisturbed."

He paused with another pointed sweep of his gaze over Noctis.

"You, however, Highness, look as if you haven't had a decent rest in…" Another pause, this one accompanied by a curious tilt of his head as Ignis pondered over a sudden thought.

"Exactly how long has it been since you and Lady Lunafreya had a full night's sleep, Noct?" Ignis asked after a moment, now truly concerned for the royal couple's health.

Noctis reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut in fatigue, and mumbled, "I don't know… Too long?"

Ignis drew breath to reply, prepared to lecture the king again about how important it was for one to sleep soundly and routinely, and of how they might find a way to remedy the problem, when he was interrupted by the object of Noctis' suffering.

Princess Stella Lucis Caelum let out a gleeful giggle from where she lay, cradled in the crook of her father's arm, and reached her tiny, plump hand up to attempt a grab at one of Noctis' dark strands of hair.

The king sighed, chastising her robotically, "no, Stell, you can't have my hair," while offering her his finger instead to satisfy her. She gripped it tightly and brought it awkwardly to her mouth until Noctis' unfortunate digit with buried halfway along its length up to the baby's toothless gums.

Ignis stared dutifully at the interaction.

"I do hope you washed that finger, Noct," he scolded, though a touch of humor colored his voice. Seeing the king like this, tired though he might be, was something of a relief and refreshment to Ignis. Noct had always been such a serious, meandering sort of person, only gaining a sense of drive and purpose in more recent years. It was good to see him anchored and—though the strategist doubted he would admit to it at the current moment—happy.

And Noct was most assuredly happy, more so than Ignis had ever seen him before. He smiled often, and even when he didn't, there seemed a constant air of contentment around him as he went about his daily tasks.

Ignis suspected, though he didn't say as much, that it had something to do with the squirming bundle in his arms, and the thoroughly spent woman still lying abed in their chamber.

 _Noct is a family man, whether he thinks it or not.  
_

Ignis smiled to himself, but he quickly rearranged his features into their usual collected mask as Noctis looked up from his failed attempt to free his finger from Stella's mouth.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up, Specs," the king admitted with a weighty sigh. "If she goes on screeching at me every night, I'm spending the rest of her infant years sleeping in a tent."

Ignis' eyebrow went up again.

"I shall have to tell Gladio you said that. He'd be delighted to take you up on that offer."

"And I might just let him," Noctis replied, much too readily.

By the Six, he _must_ be tired. Something had to be done about this. Apart from the general well-being of Noct and Luna, there were other reasons to remedy the situation. Two exhausted royals couldn't be good for the kingdom, for while the war with Niflheim was over, and Ravus now sat on her throne, there were other dangers that could befall Lucis if Noct wasn't up to the task of keeping her well-defended, or indeed, if he could focus on nothing but simply staying awake. Being king was straining enough, but with the added difficulties of being a father—and with a six-month old child, no less—Noct seemed dead on his feet.

Ignis took in his friend's drained features and slumped posture once more, then cleared his throat awkwardly as the beginnings of a plan entered his mind.

Noctis met Ignis' eyes at the sound, his face questioning as he waited for his adviser to speak.

"Noct," Ignis began slowly, "don't you think it would be beneficial if you and Luna took a break?"

"Break?" Noctis echoed with a grunt as Stella unexpectedly reclaimed another of her father's fingers and clamped down on it.

"Yes," Ignis confirmed, warming to the idea. "You and Luna should take some time off. I believe it would be best for you both _and_ for the kingdom. A frazzled king won't be of use to anyone if trouble arises, and an irritable queen will only make matters worse.

"Therefore, I suggest that the two of you arrange to spend a few days in a vacationing spot of your choice, get some much-needed rest, then return when you've been properly rejuvenated."

Noctis looked torn.

"I don't know, Iggy. It's tempting, that's for sure, but I don't if we can leave Stella alone for that long. She's so small, you know? She could get worse while we're gone. If she's lonely, she'll cry, I'm certain."

Ignis smirked, this time letting the confident smile slip through his stoic mask, more to put Noctis at ease than show any sense of false bravado.

"Perhaps not," he pressed, "if she was familiar with her caretakers."

Noctis froze and looked incredulously at his adviser, his lip curling and his eyebrows scrunching to form his signature expression of confusion.

"You, Iggy? _You're_ going to watch Stella? For a few _days?_ "

He sounded shocked. A spike of indignation and betrayal stabbed through Ignis' gut. Did Noct truly believe—after everything they went through together—that he was incapable of watching over a baby? It was an insult.

"Of course," Ignis replied huffily, "it shouldn't be too taxing, even for _me."_ He cast a pointed glare Noctis' way, and the king had the decency to appear apologetic.

"That's not what I meant," he was quick to concede. "I was only going to say that… well, Stella… she's a _difficult_ child."

As if to emphasize his point, the princess in question sucked Noctis' wedding ring off his finger and began working it between her gums.

Noctis yelped in alarm and fished the ring out of the baby's mouth, that ubiquitous expression creeping back onto his face as he looked in disgust at the drool-coated jewelry pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

"Ugh. _Stella!"_ he admonished his daughter, who only giggled mischievously in response and reached for the ring again.

"You see?" Noctis turned to Ignis, beseeching him to understand as he carefully held the ring away from Stella's probing fingers, "she's an absolute menace!"

Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in thought. Stella was undoubtedly extraordinarily misbehaved for someone her age, but that didn't change the fact that Noctis and Luna were run ragged by their daughter's antics. He felt it was his duty as Noct's adviser and friend to help him in his difficult moments, to which this was no exception.

"I would be a poor comrade indeed if I wasn't prepared to help you in this endeavor, Noct," Ignis said gently. He knew that it was Noctis' new-found sense of duty that was holding him back—in unison, of course, with his worries for Stella—but now was not the time for such sacrifice. Perhaps it was time to try a different angle.

Ignis held out his arms.

"Give her to me, Noct," he ordered, and the king, after an uncertain pause, nodded and carefully passed Stella to Ignis.

Though he was no stranger to her, Stella seemed wary of being so abruptly transferred to the adviser's arms, and appeared especially unsure of his glasses and lack of bangs. His was a vastly different face than that of her father's, and so, being suspicious of him yet not entirely _un_ comfortable, she only put a pudgy, uncertain thumb into her mouth and started sucking on it quietly for personal security.

"There, you see?" Ignis said when the princess didn't utter a sound of disapproval, "she'll be perfectly fine if you choose to bow out for a few days. Trust me, Noct."

He was close. Noctis seemed on the very brink of giving in. One more push ought to sway him.

"I'll even enlist some help if that will make you feel better. But you _need_ a break, highness. In this, I am unmoved."

Noctis' shoulders slumped, and Ignis smiled inwardly. That was the sign of victory.

"Alright, Specs. I'm trusting your judgment on this. I'll speak to Luna about this, and if she wants to, then… we'll go."

"That's all I ask," Ignis replied, allowing a fond look to grace his face. Noctis smiled back over his shoulder in response as he turned to walk away, then strolled with a new spring in his step back to his room.

There was little doubt in Ignis' mind that Luna would reject the offer, being a practical individual herself, and so he glanced down at the baby in his arms and told her quietly, "well, Stella, I suspect that you and I will be seeing a lot of each other in the days to come."

Stella slowly pulled her thumb out of her mouth in a way that seemed almost deliberate, and looked back at Ignis with an offended wrinkle of her tiny nose, obviously entirely displeased with him, and not afraid to show it now that her father was out of the picture.

 **That's it for chapter one. Any questions? Comments? Concerns? Horror at my writing style? People who actually want to read more?**


	2. Departure

**Hey, all! I'm back with chapter two! I realize that this isn't the longest thing ever (sorry!), but I do have issues getting myself off my butt to write. (Haha. Oops.) I'll work on that.**

 **I just wanted to take a moment to give a big shout out and thanks to** **HeartofFyrwinde for all the great ideas and highly entertaining conversation! You rock, and have really inspired me to work hard on this story! Now, without further ado, here's the second chapter. Enjoy!**

 **(As a side note, just in case anyone didn't know, Ignis is NOT BLIND in this story, the logic being that since Luna is still alive she could have used her Oracle abilities to cure him. That, and this magical thing called "writer's privilege." It's a wonderful tool).**

Ignis stood patiently outside the Citadel as Noctis and Lunafreya finished packing the last of their bags into the royal vehicle, Stella balanced on his hip, trying not to wince as she kicked her deceptively hard feet excitedly against his stomach for what must have been the hundredth time that morning.

He sincerely hoped that the action wasn't performed out of spite—as that savage glare she had given him two days prior might have suggested—and could be chalked up instead to the simple, uncoordinated movements common in children of Stella's age.

He hoped.

In truth, Ignis wasn't nearly as sure of his plan now as he had been originally, especially since he had received his crash course on child care from both Noctis and Luna only yesterday. He anticipated this to be a difficult endeavor now, whereas before he had thought watching over Stella would be much like watching a pet: keeping it fed, clean, and happy.

He regretted to admit that he may have been misguided on the matter. Yes, he realized that Noct and Luna had only been parents for six months, and that this was their first time away from Stella since she had been born, but surely, _surely,_ not even nervous parents would have taken up an hour of their time instructing Ignis on how to care for their baby. And yet, that was precisely what had transpired. For a full sixty minutes, the king and queen of Lucis had fretted and prattled about nap times, meal times, what to do if Stella swallowed something inedible (she did, after all, put any and every item within her reach into her mouth), and the things the adviser could do to keep the child entertained.

The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of activity: prepping, packing, and arranging political matters. Ignis had, at first, offered to run the kingdom in their stead, sitting in at council meetings, reading over reports, and maintaining the flow and order of the Citadel, but Noctis had vehemently objected. He claimed that Stella would be hard enough to handle on her own, and passed the responsibility of overseeing the matters of state to Cor Leonis.

Ignis could find no fault in that plan. He trusted the Marshal to make the best decisions and keep a clear head where others couldn't. He was proud of Noctis for placing Lucis in _capable_ hands. The thought came with a little shudder as a fleeting image of Prompto sitting in at a meeting taking selfies with all the councilors crossed the adviser's mind.

He could only be relieved that Noct hadn't placed the young Argentum in charge, best friends though they may have been.

The trunk of the royal vehicle—affectionately dubbed "The Regalia II"—slammed shut, effectively bringing Ignis back to the present, and Noctis stood back, wiping his hands in finality with a broad smile on his face.

"And that's that," he said with a hint of satisfaction. "Everything good to go, Luna?"

The Oracle straightened from where she had been leaning over the front seat, arranging her final bag, and nodded.

"I believe so," she replied, smoothing the wrinkles from her flowing skirt, turning a tiny, private smile toward Noctis, which he returned with equal fondness.

Ignis feigned a sudden, interested glance at the princess, unwilling to bear witness to what was obviously a silent moment of affection between the royal couple. He felt somewhat invasive, standing forgotten by the steps, and understood quite abruptly what it truly meant to be "a third wheel."

Stella, blissfully unaware of the tender moment transpiring between her parents, only saw Ignis' face turned toward her, and she grinned, toothless and devilish, as she made a sudden, swift snatch at his glasses. She pulled them halfway down his nose, breathing in that loud, interested way that babies were wont to do, her gaze fixated the whole time on the reflection of the light on his lenses, before Ignis reacted, freeing the frames from her grip before they could be crushed—or worse, slobbered upon.

Keeping his head carefully inclined away from the baby, he told her sternly, "let us not endeavor to repeat that little exchange, shall we?"

Stella kicked his stomach again, her eyes shining in a too-innocent way that told Ignis she would most certainly try to steal his spectacles at a later date.

Noctis and Luna approached then, walking side by side as they prepared to bid their last farewells to Ignis and Stella.

"Well, guys, I guess this is it," the king said, coming to a stop before his adviser and daughter, smiling contentedly. Ignis nodded stoically, shaking Noct's hand and wishing him safe travels as Luna fretted over Stella one last time before kissing the baby goodbye.

"We'll only be gone a week, Stell," she assured the princess, "so you be good for Uncle Ignis, okay?"

Stella reached up and patted her mother's face lovingly in response, her whole body practically _oozing_ angelic innocence. Luna hugged the girl once more, then did the same to Ignis, much to his surprise.

"Thanks so much for this, Iggy. It really means a lot to us," she muttered gratefully in an awkward position by his ear, her hug hampered by the small body held between them.

Ignis did his best to return the embrace, but had to settle for an odd action somewhere between a hug and a pat on the back.

"It's no trouble at all, my lady," he reassured. "Happy to be of service."

Luna stepped back, smiling, before Noctis took her place, punching Ignis amicably on the shoulder.

"Hey, I owe you one, man," he told him, a crooked smile twitching at his lips. "I might even eat a vegetable or two when I get back to thank you!"

Ignis arched an eyebrow, an expression he had been using frequently on the younger man in recent days.

"Forgive me for not quivering with anticipation or expectations, Highness," he delivered dryly. Noctis only laughed, then turned his attention to Stella.

"And as for you, you little monster"—he lifted her gently from Ignis' arms, leaning down to bump his forehead lightly against hers—"try not to get into _too_ much trouble, yeah? We don't want to drive Uncle Ignis away." Then, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "he makes a mean salmon fillet, after all."

He kissed her cheek softly, and Stella giggled as the bristles of his beard tickled her face. Noctis chuckled warmly at her reaction before handing her back to Ignis.

"Keep an eye on her, Specs," Noctis said, offering one last piece of advice to his friend, "she can be quite the trouble-maker if she gets loose."

Ignis nodded, fully intending to do just that, before Noctis and Luna finally departed, climbing into the Regalia II and, with one last wave, sped off out of the Citadel courtyard.

Ignis and Stella stayed there until the car was out of sight, then the adviser shifted the baby higher up on his hip and began making his way back indoors. Stella began whimpering softly then, and Ignis, curious to see what could have possibly upset her _so soon,_ felt his heart ache a little as he noticed her stumpy, cherubic finger pointing over his shoulder in the direction of the road, her face for once containing not a shred of mischief or malice.

Of course, the adviser realized suddenly, berating himself for not thinking of it before, just as this was Noct and Luna's first time away from their daughter, this was also Stella's first time being separated from her parents. The key difference between them, however, was that Stella, still so young, couldn't understand why they had left.

Ignis paused, his brow furrowing in concern. He hoped the girl didn't feel abandoned, and, though he knew it wouldn't be much help in light of her limited comprehensive abilities, he attempted to console her.

"It'll be alright, Stella," he comforted softly, "they'll be back quite soon, you'll see."

His words did nothing to appease her, but his quiet tone did. She looked up at him, her lower lip trembling, her bright, inquisitive eyes misting with unshed tears. The expression was so small and pitiable, still so heartbroken, that Ignis felt the need to try again.

"Chin up," he told her with a smile, attempting to soften his sharp features a bit, "everything will turn out. I know you can't quite figure this out, but I believe you're aware that your parents love you too much to leave you behind with someone like me."

Stella sniffled, her face beginning to crumple as her mother and father remained absent, unseen and unheard.

Not wishing to cause a scene—one that would undoubtedly unfold if the princess was left to wallow—Ignis did the only thing he could think of to pacify her.

With a heavy sigh, the adviser slipped off his glasses and handed them to her reverently. Ceasing her whimpering, the princess took the spectacles with decidedly less care, and brought them instantly to her mouth, just as Ignis had guessed she would.

Honestly, he couldn't tell if she was teething at this point, or if she was simply perpetually hungry.

"Noct is going to owe me more than one favor at the end of all this," Ignis commented bitterly to no one in particular as he resumed walking back toward the Citadel proper. "And if I trip and break both our necks on one of these bloody stairs because I can't see, just know that it will all be your fault," he finished, the words directed at the princess.

Stella sucked contentedly on the glasses, drooling peacefully all over the right lens.

Ignis returned to his own suite of rooms within the Citadel, strangely tired from carrying the princess up many flights of stairs. Despite his earlier grumblings, however, the adviser didn't once slip on his ascent, though he quietly cursed his luck at the fact that the maintenance team had chosen today of all days to run a routine check on _all_ the elevators, leaving him to labor up _many_ floors toting a baby. Thankfully, Ignis had always done his utmost to keep up an adequate level of physical fitness, so it wasn't long before he was opening the door and entering his living room.

It was a small but comfortable area, covered in soft, clean carpets of dull ivory. Their was a couch on the right side of the room beside a high wooden side table, and to the left sat a recliner with a glass coffee table before it. A window was set directly across from the door, but the view outside was still dim, as Ignis's suite was set away from the rising sun to the east. The remaining available space was dedicated to book cases that pressed together without a break from wall to wall. Two doorways led off from this room, one opening up to a modest kitchen, the other to his bedroom.

He looked about the suite with a critical eye—the view somewhat blurred without his glasses— hoping that Stella was not yet strong or quick enough to get into anything a baby should likely avoid. It was only now that Ignis began to see all the things around the apartment that could kill or seriously maim a child of Stella's age. He could already picture her slipping away from him for a mere minute and trying to climb the shelves, pulling books and possibly the whole case down on top of herself before he could bat an eye.

 _Drat._

He'd have to do something about that concern as soon as possible, but for the present he would have to be content with keeping the baby close at all times.

"And here we are," he commented to Stella as the princess gazed around with wide, curious eyes at the room, sucking excitedly on the spectacles that hadn't left her mouth for a second for the entire climb to the suite.

"Not as extravagant as you're used to, I'm sure, your majesty, but it's home." He shrugged easily before walking further into the room, plopping Stella down on the couch and shaking the stiffness out of his arms.

"You're deceptively heavy," Ignis explained to the girl as she cast what seemed to be a questioning look at the action. Stella giggled around the glasses in her mouth, a sound that held all the malicious mischief of a successfully executed prank, as if she had known all along that the elevators hadn't been functioning, and that she was heavy enough that Ignis would have to struggle up all those steps.

The notion was ridiculous—of course a baby couldn't have orchestrated all that. Why was it then, that Stella looked so deliciously guilty? Ignis narrowed his eyes at her, half out of suspicion, half because he still couldn't see quite as clearly as he would've liked, then shook his head.

 _Preposterous._ Stella was just doing what babies did—making the adults around them second guess their every intent.

Pushing those absurd thoughts away, Ignis turned to retrieve a bag from the corner of the room. The bag was full of Stella's toys and clothes, and had been brought up to Ignis' suite—along with several other totes—earlier that morning so that he had all of her necessities on hand should he need them.

He extracted a rubbery, purple ring from the bag and handed it to Stella, easing his glasses from her right hand as she took the toy with her left. The trade went smoothly, and in the next moment, Ignis was holding his unharmed—though slobbery—spectacles gingerly away from his body.

"Marvelous," he commented dryly while Stella sucked noisily on the toy he'd given her.

Honestly, was there _anything_ that child didn't try to eat?

With a resigned sigh and a final long look at the princess to make sure she wasn't about to get into any trouble, Ignis moved to the kitchen to clean off his glasses. After carefully rinsing every last vestige of drool from them, the adviser restored the spectacles to their rightful place, blinking with some relief at the clarity they afforded before returning to the living room.

And almost had a heart attack.

Noctis had warned him before he left as a simple precaution that Stella had achieved "some mobility," but what he had apparently failed to add was that she could scale sheer, leather walls of cushions. Already, the girl was on top of the back of the couch, and yet Ignis had only been gone for a minute or so. Even as he watched in growing horror, Stella began to lose her balance, her blue eyes going wide above the rubber toy still stuffed securely in her mouth as she realized her impending fall.

A word that was decidedly improper for a King's Adviser jerked unchecked from Ignis' mouth, and he moved with nearly inhuman speed across the room, diving forward at the last moment across the seat, his arms moving instinctively, and grabbed Stella around her pudgy midsection a second before she hit the ground.

Stella seemed shocked, remaining uncharacteristically silent for once. Ignis stayed frozen as well, hanging over the edge of the couch, glasses skewed, trying to ease the sudden rush of adrenaline out of his system.

The princess started laughing, breaking the stillness, and began clapping her hands joyously while Ignis sighed, slumping against the cushion.

 _Six_ , it hadn't even been ten minutes since Noct and Luna's departure.

 **Sorry about the short chapter, guys. I wanted to get this out to you as soon as possible seeing as it's already been a week since my first update, so you'll have to be content with this. I. Am. Sorry.** **This might've been longer, but then my sister and I binged some Noragami and… well, you know the rest.** **Hopefully next week I'll be less lazy and release a longer chapter, but until then, so long,** **and thanks for reading!**


	3. Day 1: The Beginning of Mayhem

**Hooray for my 100% _mature_ sense of humor! *coughs***

 _Day 1._

As it turned out, the couch incident was only the beginning of Ignis' troubles. For a brief time, he had managed to keep Stella happy and entertained, effectively depriving her of all thoughts of childish mischief, but handing her various toys from the bag on the floor and allowing her to chew on them only kept her busy for so long. After munching on the wing a stuffed chocobo for the third time, Stella started to fuss, bored and still none-to-sure about her bespectacled caretaker.

Ignis, who found the exercise to be just as dull as the princess did, couldn't even bring himself to object to her initial whimpering.

That is, until she wouldn't stop and the volume of her wails began to escalate.

Afraid of disturbing everyone in this wing of the Citadel, Ignis swiftly picked her up off the floor and tried to silence her crying.

"What has you so worked up?" he asked, balancing her on his hip carefully, looking down in mild concern at her scrunched, red face.

At the sound of his voice, she ceased her loud screeching and stared back pointedly, her lower lip poking out—the very picture of despondency. Ignis had to stifle a laugh at her crushed expression, and tried to guess the reason behind that look.

"Well, you're certainly can't be tired yet, and you don't seem hurt by your little climb... Are you hungry then?"

He glanced at the clock mounted on the kitchen wall. It was still a little early, only about eleven or so, but he figured a quick meal wouldn't hurt, especially if it would cheer up the noisy Stella.

Ignis carried her to the kitchen and began preparing a bottle of formula that Luna had left him. Personally, he would have preferred to provide the princess with a more nutritious—and certainly a more _natural—_ meal, but he couldn't very well give her that no matter how much he may have wanted to. Of course, Noct and Luna had supplied him with more solid foods that Stella was able to eat, but Ignis thought it still too early in the day to bother with them. The princess couldn't be _that_ hungry.

He finished mixing the drink—reflecting for a moment how he might have to mix one of the more potent variety for _himself_ later—and offered it to Stella, who was resting rather peacefully in the crook of his arm. She seemed content to keep her voice down as long as she knew food was coming.

 _She shares a great resemblance to her father in that respect,_ Ignis thought with a touch of amusement as the baby wrapped her mouth around the bottle… and promptly spit it back out, leveling a grimace of pure disgust on Ignis and his meal choices.

"What's the matter now?" he asked, exasperated and not a little unnerved at the intensity of Stella's malicious glare. Never before had a baby attempted to intimidate him, and he certainly hoped that this would be the first and only time it happened, partly because he wasn't sure how to respond, and partly because it was distinctly unsettling.

"You certainly don't seem pleased with your food," Ignis mused. "Would you like to try something else, Highness?"

Stella seemed to agree rather aggressively by loudly yelling an inarticulate sound. Ignis couldn't discern the word, but he imagined it was baby talk for _"what do you think, you miserable adult?"_

"You know, you really could stand to be kinder to your subordinates, princess," he informed her as he transferred her from his arms to her high chair—another gift from Noctis and Luna. Stella didn't say anything, but she snootily and steadfastly refused to look at him as he prepared her second lunch, this one a small bowl of some kind of mashed vegetable. The package said it was sweet carrots. Ignis wasn't sure he believed that.

Nonetheless, he finished spooning out a portion for his young charge, and placed the food before her, carefully offering her a bite of it.

Stella tasted it just as carefully, holding it in her mouth for a second before her face scrunched up in distaste, and Ignis had the briefest moment to think that he should start wearing a visor to the princess's meal times before the not-carrots hit him full in the face. If not for his glasses, the vegetable mush surely would have gotten into his eyes, but it didn't stop the food from spraying everywhere else. The adviser stayed frozen in place, spoon in hand, as Stella started fussing again. It wasn't out of shock that he remained unmoving—he had had a vague instinct that told him he would be spit upon, so it wasn't a surprise—but was simply a still moment of steeling himself. He was beginning to have a nagging suspicion that this meal was a taste of what the week ahead would bring—an altogether unpleasant reflection.

After a minute, Ignis rose, determination taking the place of dread. He had offered to shoulder this task, and he would be damned before he gave it up just because of a little frustration and carrot mash. Silently, he walked to the sink and cleaned off his glasses and face, ignoring Stella's displeased cries for the present.

When at last he was clear of all food embellishments, he returned to the princess and picked her up sternly.

"Stella," he addressed her firmly, his voice cutting through her whimpers and grasping her attention, "I would advise you not to reject every offer a meal I give you. I am sorry that are displeased, and for this singular time I shall endeavor to find something you _will_ eat, but in future, you will have to consume what is placed before you, understand?"

Stella cocked her head, and made a small "eh?" noise that was undoubtedly questioning. Ignis wasn't entirely convinced that she had understood him, but he hoped his tone had conveyed at least a bit of his words' intent to her. It was the best he could hope for when conversing with a six month old.

The adviser continued to stare unflinchingly at her until the princess, cowed, dropped her unhappy expression, and though she didn't appear exactly _pleased_ with Ignis, she didn't start crying again either.

 _I suppose that's as good as I'll get,_ Ignis conceded, mildly amused by Stella's staunch stoicism.

"Now then," he said, much more amicably, "seeing as I don't seem to know your preferences, I'll have to ask: What would you like to eat, Highness?"

Stella's neutral expression didn't alter as she stared for a long moment at Ignis' face, then slowly, deliberately, turned her emotive gaze to his chest and kept it there meaningfully. The adviser, after a second of shocked disbelief, cleared his throat awkwardly to recapture the baby's attention.

"Yes, well… ahem… Stella, I'm afraid I lack the biological coding to help you in this matter, as, um, convenient as that would be for both of us in this instance. Regrettably, you'll have to pick something else. Do you have a second choice?"

Stella uttered another unintelligible sound of adolescent disapproval, but seeming to realize after her extensive study that Ignis didn't possess what she was looking for, she began looking around the kitchen for something edible that she recognized as delicious. When no food item was forthcoming, however, she started to grow frustrated, and with no other options open to her to express her irritation, she began crying once more.

It took a few minutes before Ignis, fed up with the whole lunchtime escapade, threw his proverbial hands in the air—to do so in reality would have meant dropping Stella—and settled on feeding her cheerios which she ate by first soaking them in her mouth, then crushing them with her gums before swallowing. Fortunately, the princess seemed to like the cereal, so at least one of them was pleased with the outcome of this truly disastrous meal. Ignis contented himself with eating a bowl of leftover daggerquill rice, there being no time to make something for his own consumption.

When lunch was over and Ignis had one-handedly cleaned up after them both—Stella was far too troublesome to put down for even a second unattended—the adviser moved back into the living room, pushing the coffee table to the side so he could sit his small charge down on the carpet. She didn't seem too keen on returning to lounging about the suite while chewing on all her various toys, but Ignis couldn't think of anything else to entertain her with, and besides, that kid get heavy very quickly when one had to carry her around without cease for hours on end.

The chamberlain was concerned at first that the lack of stimulation would make Stella bored and thus fussy again, but thankfully, the baby seemed to take a sudden, intense interest in a colorful, eight-note xylophone, and Ignis was granted a much-needed respite as she slammed out a tuneless melody on the rainbow keys with a plastic stick. After five minutes of observing the princess's musical display and realizing that she wouldn't be concluding the performance any time soon, Ignis slipped quietly to the bookshelf and pulled a tome from it before settling down on the couch to read while Stella was happy and preoccupied.

He must have become more immersed than he had intended, because it wasn't until he heard Stella make a strange noise that he became aware that the xylophone solo had come to an end and that his charge was in some kind of distress. She had begun to utter a grunting sound, like she was trying to lift a particularly heavy weight.

Ignis glanced up from his book, his eyebrow lifting unconsciously in mild curiosity at her odd behavior, and…

 _What the…? Why was she making that face?_

Stella's cherubic features were scrunched so hard that Ignis childishly worried that she would form creases in her face if she kept the expression there long enough. She was staring down at the xylophone with intense concentration, as if she were trying to move the instrument via telekinesis, all while grunting like an upset garulet.

"Stella, what in the name of the Astrals are you doing?" the chamberlain questioned, lowering the book to his lap, one finger pressed between the pages to mark his place.

More grunting.

"Are you quite alright?"

The same reply.

She was being uncharacteristically quiet, besides that strange noise, and Ignis was beginning to worry that he had somehow erred in his duties on the first day. Was she sick or something? Choking? Engaged in a serious mental debate? It seemed wrong for a baby to just sit there. Grunting. It almost sounded like she was making the final step into completing her transformation into a werewolf. Really, Ignis couldn't think of _any other_ reason for her to be making that pained—

Oh. _Oh._ That was why.

They _had_ just eaten after all, but… why? Why now? Why him? Yes, logically Ignis realized that this was a part of what his duty entailed, but a piece of him had hoped—impossibly—that this predicament could have waited until Luna and Noct's return. Preposterous, to think that _anyone_ could hold _that_ back for a whole week.

Ignis sighed, rising reluctantly from his seat. He'd just have to man up and face this new kind of adversity head-on. After all, if _Noct_ could do it, then so could he.

That didn't mean he wanted to, but neither would he make Stella go through the day in a state of perpetual… unpleasantness. That would be child cruelty, surely.

The adviser picked the baby up off the floor, and stared her square in the face, stating almost apologetically, "you can take comfort in the fact that this will be far more uncomfortable for me than it will be for you, Highness."

Stella stopped grunting and giggled, that roguish gleam in her eyes seeming to reply, _"yeah, I know."_

Ignis had to hold back a growl, and as he stalked into his bedroom to change his friend's devilish baby, his traitorous thoughts whispered a heartfelt curse upon the king of Lucis.

"Noct," the ever-loyal chamberlain grumbled, "may you step on a shieldshear at Galdin Quay for this."

 **…**

En route to that very same beach, Noctis shivered in the driver's seat, a ripple of unease churning his stomach as a healthy coat of goosebumps stuck up on his arms and the back of his neck. His spasm attracted the attention of his wife, and she turned from ogling at the rich Lucian scenery to regard him in some concern.

"Noctis?" she questioned, laying her delicate hand lightly on his forearm, "is everything alright? You've gone pale. You aren't ill, are you? I can take over driving if you need to rest."

The king shook his head, trying to clear that ominous feeling from his body.

"No, no, I'm okay," he assured her, "it's just… you didn't feel a kind of… chill just now, did you?"

Luna's brow wrinkled gently in concern.

"No," she replied, "nothing of the kind… Noctis, would you pull over for a moment? I'd like to check your temperature, if that's alright."

Noctis' immediate reaction was to tell her no, that he was fine. He wasn't sick at all. He'd been fine all morning, he was sure of that. Luna's expression of genuine worry deterred him from his instinctual response, however. She looked so anxious for him that he had no choice but to pull onto the side of the road so that he could lean close to her as she felt his forehead with her cool, gentle hand.

Noctis smiled at her as the moment dragged on without a word from Luna. She seemed determined to give an accurate report on his condition.

That, or she just really liked to touch his face. It was a definite possibility.

"What's the verdict, doctor?" he asked, amusement lightening his tone as her hand stayed rooted to his brow like it was stuck there with glue.

Luna frowned, shaking her head as she finally lowered her hand, ignoring his borderline-sarcastic tone.

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you… outside the obvious, I mean."

Trading snark for snark. Lunafreya was quite the woman.

Grinning, Noctis leaned closer, stealing a swift, fond kiss from her before she could object.

"There," he said, "that's all the medicine I'll need for a while, I think."

She laughed, her eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"A pick-up line?" she prodded, "and here I thought chivalry was dead! I'll thank you for proving me wrong."

Trying to outdo the lord of sarcasm, was she? A gutsy move.

"I can always prove you wrong some more..." Noctis hinted, smiling crookedly and awkwardly in a manner that told Luna that, despite his words, he wouldn't kiss her again if she didn't want him to.

That earned him another laugh, and the Oracle brushed her lips lightly against his cheek, leaving the warmth of her smile lingering there even after she had pulled away.

"You spend too much time with Prompto," she chastised quietly, neither her words nor her tone holding any real conviction.

"Is that your final prescription, Dr. Lunafreya?" he wheedled, and she nodded back after false careful consideration.

"I believe so. Shall we get back to it, then?"

"Sure thing, doc," Noctis affirmed, putting the car into drive and pulling carefully back onto the highway.

"You aren't going to call me that this whole trip, are you? That's hardly a mature thing to do, your majesty," Luna reminded him as the wind from the car's increased speed began to whip her blonde hair about her face.

"Don't tempt me, master physician," he shot back lightly.

Luna made a resigned noise from the passenger seat, and muttered something under her breath that sounded like, "Six, why'd I marry this man?"

Noctis grinned again, pleased to have gotten in the last word.

"Oh, Noct?" Luna began suddenly and somberly after a beat of silence, and Noctis spared a glance away from the road to look at her.

"If you're cold, just turn down the air conditioning."

So much for that last word. He'd have to learn not to start a fight he couldn't win.

…

Ignis slumped wearily onto the sofa, pulling off his glasses as he slid a tired hand over his equally-exhausted face. After the most recent—and entirely _too eventful_ —endeavor, Stella had finally decided that her continual villainous deeds were going to be put on hold as she took a nap to energize her body for her next plot, whatever that may be. Ignis couldn't even begin to imagine what she was cooking up in that adolescent brain of hers, and he didn't want to try either. All he wanted right then was a can of Ebony and a good book, perhaps even a nap of his own. He was starting to have a new appreciation for Luna. How that woman could put up with this _every day_ was beyond him. He could hardly picture himself surviving the next seven days, let alone the next _year._ Perhaps it was selfish to think so, but he was thankful that the Oracle would be the one handling that particular time frame in Stella's life. Of course Ignis loved his surrogate niece, that much couldn't be denied, but he had discovered after these last few hours in her company that he preferred to love her from a safe distance, at least until Noct and Luna got that pernicious streak of hers under control.

The chamberlain huffed a sigh, and threw his arm over his eyes after transferring his glasses to the side table. The uplifting conviction that had gripped him at lunch was nothing but a fond memory now in the face of his crushing exhaustion and all-too-obvious inadequacy at caring for a child. He tried to shake those debilitating feelings—they would do nothing to help in the long run, and there really wasn't anything he could do about them except by continuing to look after Stella do the best of his abilities, wanting though that capability might be. Yes, it was tiring and frustrating, but there was no helping it now that he'd already settled into his role and Noct and Luna were currently hours away from home. He'd just have to push onward, as he'd always done, and try to make the most of the situation until the royal couple returned.

Easier said than done, though.

Ignis drew a deep breath, relaxing further into the couch cushions. Overthinking would only complicate matters. Really, the only thing he need concern himself with was keeping Stella alive for the week, and that was the end of it.

Honestly, if he thought about it, this job was no different than the one he had had for the past almost-thirty years: making sure a young, oftentimes obnoxious royal didn't die, preferably maintaining a healthy diet in the process.

Simple.

That summation of the problem succeeded in bringing Ignis some measure of comfort, and with his thoughts momentarily quieted, his vision darkened with the arm over his eyes, and the lulling sound of the slowly-oscillating ceiling fan filling his ears, Ignis drifted off into sleep.

He hadn't realized he had dozed off until Stella's ear-piercing cries of displeasure jerked him awake, and he shot up from the couch, blinking spots from his eyes as the blood rushed too suddenly to his brain. Snatching his glasses from the side table and sliding the lenses on, the chamberlain spared a glance at the clock before he went to check on the princess.

It was five o' clock. They'd both slept the afternoon away.

Cursing his carelessness, Ignis moved into his room to attend to the baby. He and Noct had carried the princess's bed into the adviser's chambers that morning, along with every other Stella-related object he needed, and so the two would be rooming together for the next seven days, for good or ill.

And Ignis was leaning toward the latter.

Stella was standing up in her crib when he entered, screaming bloody murder for no other reason than that she was bored.

 _Really, she must learn not to cry every time she desires entertainment,_ the chamberlain reflected as he lifted the baby from her wooden prison, _it's entirely unbecoming of royalty._

He didn't say as much out loud. Stella wouldn't understand a word of it, and he was not yet so driven to madness as to begin talking to himself.

He sensed that his time was fast approaching, though.

For her part, Stella seemed content to sit in Ignis' arms as he transported her to the kitchen to prepare a simple meal. The princess chatted her non-words into his ear as he worked to make himself dinner, and Ignis had to hum and nod in response to her nonsensical jabbering to keep her satisfied that he was still listening to her. After a lengthy, mostly one-sided conversation, the princess began amusing herself by trying to reach the pointed tip of Ignis' hair with one woefully short arm, or else to steal his glasses while he chopped vegetables or steamed rice. When neither of those things worked in Stella's favor—Ignis successfully evading her every attempt to poke or prod or take his spectacles—the baby, surprisingly calm and content after her long nap, uttered not a sound of protest and began sucking on the loose fabric of his shirt while watching him cook with wide, inquisitive eyes.

"You seem to be taking an interest in the culinary art," he commented, smiling.

Stella continued to chew on his shirt, but she pointed to the carrot that he was currently chopping—a difficult endeavor, as he only had one hand free—and made that questioning "eh?" sound again that Ignis was beginning to recognize as her noise of inquiry.

"That is a carrot," he informed her patiently as he swept the minced pieces of the vegetable into a pot with beans, onions, tomato sauce, and various other ingredients. The mixture bubbled and popped as the carrots plopped into it, and Stella's mouth formed an O as she exclaimed in astonishment, "ooh!"

Ignis chuckled softly.

"You like that, do you?"

She did, as it turned out. Every time he dropped another ingredient into the boiling pot of sauce, Stella seemed amazed, and while the chamberlain wasn't sure why or how anyone could find making chili _that_ interesting, he wasn't complaining. Watching him was keeping her busy, and, if he was being honest with himself, it was nice. No one had shown quite this level of attentiveness to his cooking before, and they certainly hadn't uttered the cutest "ooh" ever heard while he worked. It was sort of refreshing.

Stella remained entranced by the whole dinner-making experience, and when he finally sat himself and the princess down to eat, she didn't complain about her meal once—possibly because she was too busy watching _him_ eat to do much else.

She certainly seemed interested in that chili. In fact, in a way, it was almost unnerving. It was hard to focus on the taste of his meal with a six-month old staring, enraptured, at him and his plate.

Astrals, if she wasn't so little, he might have given her some of his food just to make her _stop looking._

Uncomfortable staring aside, the rest of dinner passed without incident, and soon Ignis had cleared up the mess in the kitchen and moved back to the living room where Stella was content to climb over her caretaker like a jungle gym while Ignis himself deemed to ignore her clambering limbs as he filled out a dull Crownsguard report that Cor was expecting.

In that way, the evening slipped by until it was once again time for Stella to sleep, a fact that Ignis was intensely grateful for. The latter half of the day had been much more subdued than the first, but even with the princess acting in an agreeable fashion, child care was still an exhausting task.

The chamberlain quickly prepared the baby for bed, then laid her gently in her crib with a soft, "goodnight, Highness."

He couldn't have known then, but the night would be anything but "good."

Stella had, apparently, been biding her time, or else luring Ignis into a false sense of security before she struck once more. At midnight, she started crying, waking Ignis from his previously-peaceful slumber with a shock.

Sliding from his mattress, the adviser turned on the small lamp at his bedside and trudged wearily to Stella's crib.

"What's gotten into you, then?" he asked, lifting her up and checking her over to make sure she was alright.

She was, of course, completely fine, and after rocking her for a bit to calm her down, Ignis returned to bed… only to be awakened again not half an hour later. He repeated the process, but this time, Stella didn't cease her cries. The chamberlain did everything he could think of to pacify her—feeding her, talking to her, patting her back—but she seemed determined to be moody just for the sake of it.

Finally, at one thirty in the morning, Ignis gave up trying to quiet her and moved his pillow to the couch, hoping that the princess would tire herself out.

At two, she was still wailing like a banshee.

At three, Ignis started to hate Noctis.

At four, he wondered how much he would have to pay his Glaive acquaintance, Nyx Ulric, to let him borrow _his_ couch.

At five, when the sun began to rise, Ignis gave up, and, having exhausted every available option, he retrieved his phone and began dialing a desperate number.

He needed backup.

 **A** **lright, so this is entirely unrelated to the story, but guys, how do you defeat Noctis in the friendly match in Ignis' DLC? I CAN'T DO IT! NOCTIS IS SO OP, AND I'M STARTING TO FEEL BAD FOR THE ENEMIES I FIGHT IN THE MAIN GAME! Is there a way to level Ignis up before fighting or something? 'Cause I can barely do any damage to Noctis. Someone help. I'm struggling.**


	4. Day 2: Reinforcements and Voice Acting

**Since I couldn't PM you, anonymous guest reviewer, I'll have to answer you here. I hadn't planned on putting Ravus in the story, but I'm open to suggestions if any and all people who want to see Ravus can offer a way for me to work him in, because SPOILER ALERT! I don't actually have a concrete plan for this story. That's how I do all my works. I get an idea, and play the rest by ear. Unconventional, I know, but I'm bad at planning, so… yeah. If someone supplies a good idea, I will be happy to put emo boy Ravus in here somewhere because he's awesome.**

 _Day 2—Part 1._

Prompto was accustomed to waking up at early hours in the mornings for any number of reasons—going out to jog, snapping pictures of a sunrise, making a predawn run to the Crow's Nest for waffles because his wife, Cindy, had a sudden craving—but never before had that reason been Ignis calling him… at five in the morning.

Clumsily, he fumbled to answer his phone lest the snazzy pop song that was his ringtone should disturb Cindy, and slipped quietly out of bed to take the call out on the balcony where his voice wouldn't reach the ears of his sleeping wife.

"Iggy? What's going on?" he asked when he was safely outside in the cold morning air, shivering at the sudden drop of temperature and resisting the urge to pull his arms into the warmth of his t-shirt sleeves. It wasn't like Ignis to contact him so early in the day. The chamberlain was always aware of others, and would never have called Prompto if he thought he might still be asleep unless the situation was dire.

Fleetingly, the blond had the panicked thought that something had happened to Noct, but Ignis' reply dispelled that and any other reflection he might have had.

"Prompto," the chamberlain said, his voice cracked and tired like he had just emerged from a trying struggle, "I need your help."

The concern for Noctis vanished in an instant, only to be replaced by worry for the adviser.

 _Iggy needs my help? He never asks for help! The hell's going on!?_

"Help?" Prompto questioned, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously, "help with what? Are you okay, Iggy?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, then Ignis' weary voice explained, "I'm alright, I suppose. I'm not in any physical danger, if that is your concern, but I'm afraid I can't handle this matter on my own."

" _What_ matter!?" the blond pressed, his short attention span demanding a swift answer that Ignis seemed strangely reluctant to supply.

There was a beat of silence.

"Stella," the chamberlain huffed quietly after a moment, sounding somewhat defeated.

Prompto furrowed his brow.

"Stella?" he echoed, "you mean, like, _Stella_ Stella? Noct's kid? Heir apparent to Lucis? _That_ Stella?"

Ignis heaved an exasperated sigh.

"Prompto, do you know of any other Stellas?"

The blond replied in the negative, and Prompto could practically hear the silent _"_ _well, there you go then"_ in Ignis' next oddly emotive breath.

"Yeah, okay," Prompto continued slowly, "but why do you need help with her? You watching her or something?"

"With much harm to myself, unfortunately," Ignis affirmed, then continued, forestalling Prompto's next question, "Noct and Lady Lunafreya are gone for the week, vacationing at Galdin Quay, and I offered to watch the princess in their absence. I have, however, run into a complication: I can't get her to stop… well, screeching."

"Screeching?" the gunner parroted with amusement, "that's a harsh word, don't you think, Iggy?"

Ignis didn't reply, there was only a rustling noise as the adviser moved at his end of the line, then the soft thump of his feet across the floor before, with a soft _clunk,_ the phone was placed against something hard. Prompto surmised in the next moment that the hard surface was a door, for beyond it, he heard the muffled—yet no less deafening—wails of a _very_ upset baby.

He should have known better. Ignis never exaggerated. That sound could certainly be classified in the "screech" category.

The blond pulled the phone away from his ear as the cries reached a super-sonic volume, wincing from the pain in his ear and from the pity he suddenly felt for Ignis.

The chamberlain removed the phone from the door, muting Stella's cacophony, and resumed speaking.

"I realize that this is out of the blue and perhaps a bit unprecedented, but I regretfully admit that I am not equipped to care for Stella at the current moment. I… I need your help, Prompto."

As if he could say no to that desperate tone. Ignis must really be laid out on the rocks if he admitted to needing assistance— _Prompto's_ assistance. The gunner could see no way to decline even if he wanted to—which he didn't! He owed Ignis that much at least.

"Sure thing, dude," he agreed, "I'll just have to tell Cindy that I'm going. I'll be over in a jif! Don't die before I get there!"

He hung up without waiting for Ignis' response and slipped back into his bedroom.

Cindy was still asleep, the covers pulled up all the way to her chin, snoring ever so slightly. It was rare to see her slumbering so deeply. At eight months pregnant, any number of things could arose her at the most ungodly hours, often resulting in her being up well before Prompto, tired yet trying to act cheerful as if he couldn't see those dark shadows under her eyes.

She looked so peaceful now. Prompto didn't have the heart to wake her.

Smiling once at her sleeping form, he gathered his day clothes from the closet along with his shoes and departed for the bathroom to get changed and to style— _neaten._ He meant neaten—his hair.

He emerged a few minutes later in a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt, patting the last strands of his chocobo-inspired hairdo into place.

And just for the record, his coiffure was meant to look like the bird's _crest,_ not its butt, as Gladio seemed so determined to believe.

Prompto entered the kitchen and scratched a quick note to Cindy illustrating where he was before slipping out of the house.

He elected to travel to the Citadel by foot, both to fulfill his morning jog quota, and because he was loathe to leave Cindy alone without a car should some trouble befall her while he was out.

At a steady pace, it didn't take Prompto long to reach his destination. Out of concern for his expecting wife, Prompto—along with his anxious friends—had had to convince Cindy to leave Hammerhead for a time and stay in an apartment in Insomnia that Noctis had prepared for them. Knowing the beautiful mechanic as well as he did, Prompto could see that Cindy would've stayed at the garage fixing cars even if she started going into labor. He admired her dedication—it was one of the things that had endeared her to him from the start—but sometimes he found her to be a bit overzealous in her work. It had taken him, all three of his friends, Cid, and even (oddly enough) Cor the Immortal to convince her to leave Hammerhead for a while until the birth of their child was over and they had gotten everything settled and ready for travel back to their permanent residence.

That was why now it only took Prompto twenty minutes to jog to the Citadel from their apartment, stopping but briefly at the gates as his familiar face was identified and he was allowed to entry by a pair of Glaives.

He took the front steps two at a time, bounding up them with his seemingly endless reserves of energy, then navigated easily through the halls to the elevator, bouncing impatiently on his toes as he waited for it to finish its ascent. It soon slowed to a smooth halt, dinging cheerfully as Prompto stepped out and walked the remaining distance to Ignis' suite.

Even if he hadn't known his way around the palace so well, he needn't have worried about the directions he took. Had he gotten lost, he could easily have followed the splitting wails that echoed shrilly about this entire floor of the building.

 _Yowch._ _Poor Iggy._

He knocked cautiously on the door, but received no answer. Leaning in close to the entrance, he called softly, "Ignis? I'm coming in."

He wasn't sure if the chamberlain could hear him over the screams of his young charge, but he continued nonetheless, turning the knob and entering the room beyond.

Ignis, apparently, had indeed missed his calls and the knock, for when Prompto stepped into the suite, the adviser was standing with his back to the door, Stella in his arms, absorbed by his attempts to silence the distressed princess.

It didn't seem to be working.

Prompto cleared his throat as loudly as he dared, and Ignis turned in surprise before his expression revealed his relief.

"Prompto! Thank the Astrals!" he exclaimed, crossing the room quickly with his long strides.

 _Jeez, Iggy looks a wreck!_

The chamberlain was in perhaps the most disheveled condition Prompto had ever seen him in, and that was coming from a guy who had witnessed the adviser's wicked bedhead firsthand. He looked completely exhausted, his pale skin a shade lighter than usual, his eyes glassy and tired, ringed by dark shadows, his hair a tousled mess, and his immaculately-pressed shirt was rumpled, with the top _two_ buttons undone.

That last observation alone convinced Prompto that whatever torture Ignis had endured last night must have been hardcore.

"Apologies for the early wake up call, but I truly am in dire straits," the bedraggled chamberlain conceded to his younger friend as Stella beat her tiny feet against Ignis' stomach. The baby had yet to stop crying, but it was quieter now as she faced the identity of her newest victim curiously.

"Yeah, dude, I can see that," Prompto replied before he held out his arms for the princess wordlessly. Ignis, just as wordlessly, handed her over before shaking the stiffness out of his limbs.

He must have been holding her for a while.

Prompto turned his attention to Stella, who had finally ceased her wails, but only to study the blond with a discerning eye.

"Well, what has you so upset this morning, stinker?" he asked the baby playfully, "is it Iggy? He makes me want to cry sometimes, too."

He bounced her gently, and her suspicious glare faded away as she began to giggle blissfully.

"You should go take a nap or something, Specs," Prompto suggested, glancing up briefly at the adviser, "you look like death turned over."

Ignis smiled wearily.

"I do believe the expression is death _warmed_ over, Prompto, but I take your point," he said. "I certainly have no objections to the idea if you have everything in hand here."

Prompto grinned brightly down at Stella, bouncing her again unexpectedly, the surprise causing her to squeal in delight.

"No problems there, dude," he assured the chamberlain, "just go lie down. I got this."

Ignis nodded, turning to depart for his bedroom.

"Don't hesitate to wake me if you run into any trouble," he added, pausing briefly at his door, his hand on the knob.

Prompto waved in acknowledgment, never looking up from the baby.

"Sure, sure," he agreed absently, "just go to bed before you kill yourself."

Ignis seemed hesitant to leave his charge so easily, but after a moment of indecision, he nodded and disappeared into his chambers, closing the door softly behind him.

When at last he was gone, Prompto smiled devilishly at Stella.

"Sooo," he drawled, looking about the apartment studiously, "what should we mess with first, your majes-tay?"

Stella, who seemed glad to be rid of the uptight Ignis for the moment, smiled at Prompto's joking tone, and responded with a string of nonsensical baby-words.

The blond nodded sagely as if she had just said something deeply profound.

"Yes, that's a good idea. But wouldn't Ignis notice if we used _all_ his chocolate chips?"

"Bah!" Stella responded, as if in agreement, then pointed toward a large bag of toys on the floor that Prompto assumed were hers.

They certainly didn't belong to Ignis. He wasn't fond of xylophones.

"You want to play a game first?" he asked, plodding over to the bag and plopping down on the floor with the baby in his lap, her top-heavy body leaning back against his chest for balance.

"Let's see what we've got here," Prompto mused, digging through the toys for something amusing, eventually pulling out a small plastic car that looked suspiciously like the Regalia.

He put the car on the ground and started rolling it in Stella's direction, making an engine noise with his lips as it "drove."

Stella didn't seem to know what to do about the situation, so Prompto decided to include her in the budding road trip adventure.

"Check out the size of that mountain!" he commented, stopping the car in front of the baby's foot, "it's huge! We're not seriously gonna climb that thing, are we?"

Stella snickered, catching on to the game as Prompto nudged the front bumper against her soft heel.

"Ugh," he mumbled irritably, pitching his voice lower and trying to make it rasp a little in a moment of random inspiration, "it's all squishy and gross."

He grinned, pleased with himself. He thought that was a fair imitation of his best friend.

Stella, apparently, thought the same judging by the look of surprise that she leveled on Prompto when the voice of her father came out of _his_ mouth.

Man, that expression was priceless! Prompto struggled to hold back a laugh as the young princess looked around the room with a confused "eh?" as if she expected Noctis to pop out of the wall and cure her befuddlement. She couldn't seem to comprehend that her father wasn't actually here. Prompto almost felt guilty that he had blown her six-month-old mind.

Almost, but not guilty enough not to try his luck again.

This time, he lowered his voice to the deepest pitch he could, and snorted quietly, "wuss. C'mon, Prince Charmless, you'll never get to the top if you don't even _try._ "

Alright, so his Gladio left a bit to be desired, and to a more seasoned listener it wouldn't have passed muster, but to Stella, who had only been in close quarters with the Shield a few times in her life, it must have sounded like the perfect imitation.

She looked up at Prompto with her jaw slack, then turned back to the car, then up to Prompto again.

"Bah?" she questioned after a long interval of perplexed silence, pointing curiously at the tiny Regalia.

"Yep," Prompto replied in Gladio's voice, "I'm in there."

Watching his lips move to the words, Stella seemed to understand the joke at last, and she laughed, bouncing excitedly in her newest caretaker's lap.

"Hey, I think she likes it!" he chuckled, reverting back to his impersonation of Noctis.

"Oh, yeah!" he chipped in his normal tone, as if responding to the comment his "friend" had just made.

Stella seemed inordinately pleased with his imitations, and, warming to the theme of the game, she pointed to Ignis' door across the room and made another of her signature inquiring sounds, her face open and hopeful.

Prompto easily discerned her meaning, and his smile widened as he turned back to the toy car, bumping against Stella's foot again to bring her attention back to the problem the invisible foursome was encountering before he complied with her desire.

"Yes," he began once more, morphing his voice into a smooth, accented drone, "this mountain _is_ rather enormous. I suggest we find another way around."

The enraptured smile that Stella cast on him as he parroted Ignis could've melted the iciest heart, her clapping and amused squealing so sincere and happy that Prompto could swear she was glowing.

 _Wonder why Iggy was having so much trouble with her?_ the gunner puzzled, _she's so easy to please!_

Stella tapped his hand with her pudgy palm, demanding him to continue, and Prompto happily acquiesced.

"Save it, Iggy," he continued in the deep tone of the King's Shield, "we made it this far, I ain't backin' down now."

He reverted back to his natural voice.

"Aww, but I'm too tired to climb all the way to the top!"

 _Dang, am I always that whiny?_ He pondered for a brief moment before arriving at the conclusion a mere second later.

 _Yeah. Yeah, I am._

He decided to make "Noctis" complain so that not _all_ the lame lines weren't reserved for himself.

"Yeah, Gladio, I don't think 'fell down a mountainside' is the way I want to go out."

Perfect. That was something Noct would say, wasn't it?

"You won't fall if you shut up and pay attention to where you put your feet," fake Gladio argued with distinctly disrespectful snark.

By this point, Stella, with her adolescent attention span, seemed to be losing interest in the one-sided conversation, so Prompto decided to liven things up. He emulated the ring of a cellphone—unintentionally startling the baby with the unexpected sound—then made a clicking noise as "Noctis" answered.

"Hello?" he asked in that bored tone that his friend always used when speaking to someone other than his close acquaintances.

Now came the tricky part. He was positive that not even _Stella_ would be impressed with the next voice he tried, but something had to be done. The situation was desperate. Gladio was trying to make them climb a baby-shaped mountain, and Prompto was _not_ having it, not even in the land of his own imagination.

No holes barred. He was going for it. Thank the Astrals his wife wasn't here.

"Heya, Prince!" he said, doing his best to recreate the thick drawl and chipper tones of Cindy, "sorry to bother ya now, but didja try out them new tires I installed on the old girl?"

This newest voice in his arsenal seemed to be a hit, and Stella cackled gleefully as she recognized the voice of her surrogate aunt, even though Prompto's voice cracked a bit on the higher intonations.

False Noctis replied in the negative with a sound of confusion, asking what "Cindy" meant, at which point "Ignis" sighed wearily and had to explain to the prince (seriously? Why was imagination Noctis such a dimwit?) that the pretty mechanic had told them back at Hammerhead that she had given them special "gripping tires" (whatever those were. Prompto himself wasn't one hundred percent certain). Fake Cindy then had to say that they would help them climb up rocks in the Regalia, then—although "Gladio" grumbled about it—the group decided to go up Stella Mountain in the car, which was definitely _not_ something the real Ignis would ever consent to.

He made the four of them climb back into the Regalia, then started forward, driving straight up the instep of Stella's foot.

The baby shrieked with laughter as the tiny wheels tickled their way up to her toes, then over her ankle before rumbling up her chubby leg.

After much laughter and squirming on the strange mountain's part, the party in the Regalia reached the top and stepped out onto the unusual, blonde "grass" that was Stella's hair.

"Here we are," Prompto said in the tones of Ignis, when the car was parked comfortably on the crown of the princess's head.

"Woohoo! We made it!" he celebrated in his real voice.

"Cake, baby." That was Noctis.

"Huh, the view would be more rewarding if we'd climbed." Gladio, obviously.

He didn't have much of a plan for his story beyond that point, so it was something of a relief when Stella reached up, managing to reach the toy car with her short arms, and put the Regalia in her mouth, effectively killing them all.

Shoot. Cindy would be so disappointed, but hey! at least her gripping tires had worked.

 **I realize this ending's a bit abrupt, but I had already exceeded 3,000 words, so I was like, "meh, this is a good place to stop." Also, I sincerely apologize that this chapter is late. I had orientation last week, and it really took a lot out of me (it was two days long. Gross.), so I was knocked out for a few days after (ah, the non-existent re-energizing power of the introvert!), and then, I ain't gonna lie, I just got lazy and uninspired.** **I'm sorry that my spirit animal is a sloth. It just happened that way. :** **)**


	5. Day 2-Part 2: It's Washable (Maybe)

**Yum. I love Airheads. They're made from the dreams of leprechauns.**

 _Day 2—Part 2._

Ignis was awakened around noon by the sound of giggling. In itself, the laughter wouldn't have been a bad thing—it was far preferable to the screaming Stella had been doing that morning—but for the fact that the noise was coming from _directly above him…_ and that one of those impish snickers was strangely deep, almost as though a Catoblepas was chuckling at his expense.

He knew, sure as anything, that that laugh did _not_ belong to Prompto or Stella.

Dread gripped him like a vise as he slowly cracked an eye open to gaze up at the mirthful figures standing around his bed.

Predictably, there was Prompto, giggling like a little girl at a slumber party, holding some unknown item not-so-subtly behind his back. Stella was there too, laughing along with him, though he wasn't sure if she even knew _what_ was so funny to the blond. The most alarming—and definitely the _biggest—_ surprise was Gladio, holding the baby as easily as a doll in one arm, while with the other hand…

Bloody _hell._ Why did he have his phone out?

He was answered a half second later by the tell-tale shutter sound of the camera as Gladio tapped a button on the screen with a traitorous smirk.

"Mornin', Iggy," he greeted, his voice entirely too even for Ignis' liking. The chamberlain narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I've no idea what you two just did," he stated accusingly, "but I must insist that you be rid of that picture you just took."

Prompto snorted indelicately at that, but tried to cover it up with a cough. Ignis didn't buy it for a moment. Honestly, he wasn't sure why the gunner had even bothered to attempt concealment.

"Prompto Argentum," he said dangerously, temporarily turning his attention away from the smug Gladio, "what in the name of Bahamut did you do?"

The blond pressed his lips together tightly to stop his irrepressible sniggers, his eyes squinting at the corners with the force of his suppressed laughter as he slowly brought his hand out from behind his back, waving the pen he held before Ignis' eyes and uttering the most nightmarish words he ever spoken in his life.

"Don't worry, Specs. It's a washable marker!"

Gladio began cackling like a crazy asylum patient, tears forming in his eyes as Prompto collapsed heavily to the floor to stop himself from face planting from the intensity of his own hilarity, neither one able to restrain themselves now that the secret was out.

Stella grinned along with them, pointing at Ignis' face with an elated shriek.

The adviser couldn't remember the last time he'd moved so fast—not even when he'd had to rescue Stella from an untimely fall from his couch. Whipping the sheets off his body, he kicked his legs over the side of the bed and strode with the swiftest dignity he could muster to his bathroom, slamming the door behind him just as Gladio chortled out the _second most_ ominous thing he had heard that day.

"We think."

Their mirth reached new heights of volume behind him as Ignis looked into the mirror with a wince of anticipation.

… Of course they'd drawn on his face.

From the looks of it, Prompto had pulled out _all_ the stops on his non-existent doodling skills, while Gladio, it seemed, had decided to try his hand at penmanship on the chamberlain's forehead.

Although, could it really be considered penmanship if he had just written the words _"'sup, Specky"_ in cursive?

There were so many scribblings and scrawlings across his skin that his reflection looked more like a graffitied wall than a human face. Ignis didn't even _try_ to take them all in as he grabbed a clean cloth from the linen closet and coated it with water to scrub the offending marks off.

 _Gladio, Prompto, for your own well-being, you'd best pray that you used a washable marker,_ Ignis thought balefully as he brought the cloth to his face.

Much to his relief (and to the safety of his so-called friends), the ink disappeared easily under the damp rag, and Ignis wasted no time in scrubbing every last doodle off until the skin underneath burned red.

Six, had they let Stella have a go as well? Not even Prompto would have risked drawing a twisty line so near his eye like that, surely.

After a few minutes, he was nearly done with his facial cleanse. The last inky spot to be wiped away was on his left cheek, down close to his chin, and he started to sponge it mindlessly off as he'd done with all the others, when he paused with a cold sinking of his stomach.

Oh, yes. Gladio was going to delete that picture even if Ignis had to fight him for it.

The last drawing seemed to be a joint masterpiece by both of his friends. Judging from its lopsided appearance, Prompto had done the sup-par illustration of a heart, while Gladio—employing his new-found calligraphy skills, no doubt—had written the word _Aranea_ expertly inside it.

Ignis wiped _that_ little embellishment off with more force than was probably necessary, deeming to ignore the way his reflected expression refused to maintain its taciturn facade as he cleaned the mark as swiftly as he could without injuring himself.

When his skin was clear of all the ink, he took a moment to compose himself, shrugging off the lingering vestiges of a stirring… something inside his chest before he exited the bathroom with a dignified glare at his two friends, who, in his absence, had decided to help themselves to studying every aspect of his room.

Gladio rose smoothly from where he had been leaning over Ignis' short bookshelf, scrutinizing the small collection of framed photographs set on top of it, while Prompto (for reasons the chamberlain couldn't and _wouldn't_ try to discern) started guiltily from rummaging through his sock drawer as the adviser reentered.

He elected not to comment on their odd behavior other than to raise one curious, peeved eyebrow.

Gladio just grinned back shamelessly, shifting Stella carefully from one arm to the other as he wheedled, "how was the bath, Iggy?"

Seeing that he would garner not the slightest hint of remorse from the Shield, Ignis sighed and shook his head before making his way smoothly to his side table to retrieve his glasses from where he had laid them before his rudely-interrupted nap. He slid them on as he asked testily in response, "why are you _here_ , Gladio?"

The taller man shrugged with his unburdened shoulder, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.

"Helping Prompto," he replied briefly. "Poor guy didn't even know what to give the kid for lunch."

He jerked his head in Stella's direction to stress his point, as if Ignis didn't know what he meant by "the kid."

The chamberlain turned to Prompto with a mix of annoyance and remorse.

"I told you that you were to wake me if you experienced any difficulties," he told the blond with a firm gentleness.

The scrawny gunner winced a bit at the unspoken apology in Ignis' voice, and protested, "that's not true! Everything was fine, I swear! Gladio just showed up. He texted me earlier to ask what I was up to, so I told him, and then he came to bring me lunch at twelve _super unexpectedly._ "

He cast a pointed look at the Shield, who only shrugged again carelessly and grunted huffily.

"I thought you could use a pick-me-up after entertaining the kid for hours," he explained. "I was tryin' to be considerate, which is more than I can say for _some people."_

Now it was his turn to level a glare on Ignis, who raised _both_ eyebrows in some surprise.

"Are you referring to me, Gladio? That's a tad harsh considering that you're the one who decided to draw on my face a few minutes ago."

The Shield snorted.

"I thought we'd moved past that. What I'm talkin' about is you just letting Noct leave without telling any of us about it! I get that Prompto's busy with his own family and all, but why'd you go and leave me out of the loop?"

"I fail to see how that offends or affects you, Gladio," Ignis shot back calmly, crossing his arms across his chest. "I believe Noct is perfectly capable of making his own decisions at this juncture. It's not as though he's charging into a war zone unattended. He and Lady Lunafreya are only taking a well-deserved vacation time."

Gladio's fist clenched, and Ignis had the fleeting worry that he would crush Stella between the hard bulges of his sizable arm muscles as they flexed with the motion.

"That _is_ the problem!" he growled as his short temper once again took the reigns on his behavior, "Noct shouldn't be going anywhere without _me._ What if something happens to him or Luna? I'd be at fault for it! I can't protect him if he runs off into the blue without so much as a word!"

Ignis' face softened. Of course, that was what Gladio was concerned about, and it was probably what he had come here to discuss in the first place. He had thought it odd that the Shield had come all the way here just to deliver Cup Noodles to Prompto. He couldn't exactly say that Gladio's anger was justified, of course, but it did make sense.

The chamberlain let his crossed arms fall to his sides as he replied in much milder tone, "we're in a time of peace, Gladio. I don't wish to disregard your concerns, but I believe this was for the best. Noct and Lunafreya will be safe enough at Galdin. They simply need some time away from the palace, _and_ all their protective bodyguards."

He smiled at these last words to show he meant no offense, including himself in the latter description.

Gladio seemed to waver, if only a little, and Prompto chimed in to add his piece.

"Yeah, dude! They probably just want to get all romantic without an audience," he commented, then continued in a pretty fair imitation of the royal couple, "'oh, Noctis! Your eyes are so beautiful!' 'Not as beautiful as yours, Luna! Kiss me, baby.'"

He then proceeded to make a rather obnoxious smacking sound with his lips, at which point Ignis felt the need to intervene before things got out of hand.

"Alright, Prompto, that's enough of _that._ I do believe we've taken your point."

The blond fell silent with an embarrassed, guilty blush, which succeeded in drawing out a chuckle from Gladio.

"As if his royal highness could ever learn to flirt," he grumbled in amusement, then turned his attention back to the issue at hand.

"Still, though," he said, "I don't like it."

Ignis sighed in quiet accord.

"I don't like it either, Gladio. It does set me a bit on edge knowing that I won't be around should either of them need anything, but we both must accept that right now, Noct needs us both here. He's entrusted Stella to our care, so we mustn't lose our focus reflecting on things that _could_ or _might_ happen, yes?"

The Shield's lips twisted into an expression of displeasure, but he rumbled grudgingly, "yeah. I suppose. Don't mean I won't be calling that little ass to make sure he's still alive, though."

Ignis' mouth twitched in a knowing smile.

"Well, now, I wouldn't expect anything less," he said.

…

While he certainly didn't seem satisfied with having to stay behind in Insomnia without Noct, Gladio didn't say anything further about the matter, much to the relief of his friends. Although in Ignis' mind the Shield's appearance had not been a boon at the beginning, as the day wore on, both he and Prompto came to relish his presence. It made caring for the princess that much easier to have three sets of hands available at all times to keep her out of trouble, and though he wasn't as responsible and conscientious as Ignis nor as spirited as Prompto, Gladio possessed his own special brand of nurturing that Stella—in her own vexatious way—seemed to appreciate. His was a gruff kind of care, one that caused Ignis to smile when he heard the sounds of the happenings in his living room as he stood in the kitchen preparing a more sizable meal than he had had the night before.

Prompto and Gladio had agreed that it was in all their best interests to take control of seeing to the baby while the chamberlain cooked, and so the two had hunkered down on the carpeted floor to entertain Stella. Ignis had been loathe to cede his duties to the others at first, but after they expressed their heartfelt desires to eat a proper meal that evening, the adviser had caved and left them to their own devices.

He could hear them, now talking to each other, now to Stella, now laughing or grunting or _growling_ as the situation demanded. It was almost… relaxing, in a way. Peaceful.

He tuned into their conversation as he began sauteing the vegetables for dinner, listening intently for any sign of undue trouble, but hearing instead only the interesting byproducts of Gladio's personal method of babysitting.

"How long are you just going to let her climb on you?" That was Prompto's voice, inquiring yet distracted, as if his attention were focused on something else. His phone, perhaps? With their small friend, it was entirely possible.

"As long as she wants. It ain't hurtin' anyone," Gladio rumbled back, likewise preoccupied. That was no mystery, though. Ignis had spied him pulling out a book before he had departed for the kitchen, but had decided not to chastise him for directing his focus away from Stella. After their little argument, he knew that the Shield was only reading to calm that hot temper of his, so he let the matter slide just this once.

"Yeah, maybe," Prompto replied teasingly, "but if she throws up on you, dude, I'm gonna laugh."

A slight pause and a shuffle of fabric and pages that told Ignis the Shield had just lowered his book, probably only to glare at the blond.

"You laugh, and you'll be cleaning it up, bub."

A nervous chuckle, then, "easy there, big guy. It was just a joke."

Gladio snorted, and silence fell again for another minute. Ignis had almost returned his full attention to making dinner when he heard a dry comment from Prompto.

"Hope you weren't fond of that necklace of yours."

Curious, Ignis lowered his spatula and poked his head around the door frame. Gladio was lying on his back on the carpet, Prompto leaning against the couch in a position by the Shield's feet. Stella was on top of the large man, her body propped up on one arm, while the other hand grasped Gladio's long necklace. As the chamberlain watched, she quite predictably brought the pendant to her mouth and began sucking on it, drool coating it and the fist that held it in seconds. The Shield raised his head off the ground, moving his book aside so he could see the princess, then shrugged—a favorite expression of his recently—and went back to his reading.

"It'll clean off easy," he dismissed.

It was somewhat infuriating, the way he disregarded every situation that would have inconvenienced or disgusted Ignis. He had been nothing but smooth and cool the entire time he had been here, simply letting Stella do whatever she pleased in a type of caretaking that he referred to as "mansitting."

Yes, it was pleasant not to have to worry about what the princess was up to every second of the day, and yes, Gladio was extraordinarily good at his job, and _yes_ once again, he shouldn't be complaining, but for an unexplainable reason, the ease with which the Shield handled the troublesome princess was grating in its simplicity.

Prompto obviously felt the same way, judging from the way a tiny scowl twisted the corner of his mouth before he called spitefully, "hey, Stella!"

The baby turned about at the sound of her name, and there came that questioning "eh?" again. That seemed to be her word for "what?" Ignis quickly gathered.

Prompto grinned at the baby and suggested much too sweetly, "why don't you give Uncle Gladio a kiss?"

After that, three things happened at once. The Shield dropped his book and looked up sharply, growling, "Prompto, don't even think about it!" in warning just as Stella smiled that daemon's smile back at her blond caretaker, and began shuffling forward while Ignis, in a rare moment of petty malice, slid his phone from his pocket and opened the camera, waiting patiently.

With hindsight, the chamberlain wasn't sure why Gladio didn't try to move as his impending, drooling doom loomed over him. Whether he didn't actually think anything unpleasant would happen, or he feared to hurt Stella, Ignis could never afterwards tell. All he knew at the time was that the Shield stayed frozen in place as the princess slid carefully up the immobile Gladio until she was practically sitting on his neck, then leaned forward and planted her "kiss" on his nose.

The chamberlain wouldn't quite have used the term "kiss" in this instance, however. It was, as Prompto would later refer to it, more of a "nom."

Stella latched her toothless mouth around Gladio's nose, chewing on it with the carefree sounds of a happy child. The Shield struggled to get her off without damaging the future ruler of Lucis, cursing violently as that imminent drool started to slid over his face.

It was at that moment that Ignis snapped a picture, making sure that the digital shutter sound was on and clear simply for the spite of it.

"Specs!" Gladio bellowed in anger as the sound reached his ears, sitting up and ripping the squealing baby off his nose.

Ignis allowed his rising smirk to penetrate the neutral expression he usually wore as he slid the phone back into his pocket with a sense of superiority and walked calmly into the kitchen again, waving a hand over his shoulder.

"Turnabout is fair play, Gladio," he quipped, never once looking back.

 **Well, I'm not 100% satisfied with this one, but I needed to write it before I moved on to the _next_ chapter, where we'll finally be leaving Ignis' place to do some more entertaining things. Also, can anyone say "Highspecs?"**


	6. Day 3: Peanut Butter Pillow

**AGH! This is _so_ late! I'm sorry, guys. I promise that wasn't supposed to happen. Apologies, all. I'm here now, though, so please, continue and enjoy! **

_Day 3._

"Ugh, I am _so_ bored!" Prompto whined, flopping unceremoniously over the kitchen table, kicking his legs childishly against the supporting rungs of his wooden chair.

It was seven in the morning, and all four of them, Ignis, Gladio, Prompto, and Stella, were gathered around the small, round table in the chamberlain's kitchen, polishing off the last of their breakfast. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits today, having slept soundly all through the night, including the young princess, who, after her sleepless night before, and having only a brief nap the previous day, had been utterly exhausted by the time dinner rolled around, nearly falling asleep in her food before Ignis deemed that it was bed time.

Prompto, after conferring with Cindy over the phone, had spent the night on Ignis' couch, saying that if the adviser should need him, he would be there to help, especially if Stella decided to have another screaming session in the wee hours of the morning. Gladio had returned to his own home, but it was of no consequence to the others. He lived barely five minutes away from the Citadel in a fine house that had been in the Amicitia family for generations. He had grudgingly told them that he would be available if the princess became _too_ unmanageable, but he stressed that he should only be contacted as an absolute _last resort._

That point, though, was moot now as they lounged in their wooden chairs, rested, recovered, and full thanks to Ignis' superior cooking skills.

The chamberlain glanced up at the blond with a frown, the spoon in his hand with the last bite of Stella's breakfast pausing halfway to the baby's mouth.

"I fail to see how you expect me to help you in this instance, Prompto," he told the younger man dismissively.

The gunner leaned back in his chair, his body oozing into a dramatic slouch as he returned Ignis' gaze with a pout.

"I dunno, dude. You could just, like, drive us somewhere fun or something," he mumbled in reply. "C'mon, throw me a bone here, Iggy! I'm dying!"

The chamberlain sighed, lifting his glasses as he rubbed his eyes wearily. It was too early for this.

"If you're that bored, you might set about washing the dishes," he told Prompto.

The other man made a sound of intense disapproval, and even Gladio, who had been reading quietly up until this point, snorted a bit derisively.

"But that's not _fun,_ " the blond huffed, melting down even further in his chair.

Gladio laughed, marking his book and putting it down on the table.

"Yeah, Iggy. Even for you, that's cold."

The chamberlain glanced from one to the other. He got the distinct impression that he was being double-teamed, but he couldn't confirm it, so he said carefully instead, "there isn't a lot we can do at present. Our duty now is to the princess, not to our desires."

Prompto, having sunk uncomfortably low in his chair, perked back up and pointed at Stella.

"She's bored too, though!" he protested.

The princess in question looked peevishly at Prompto and all his yelling, then steadfastly ignored him by reaching out to pull the spoon that Ignis still held closer to her mouth.

The chamberlain jolted back to her as her little fingers wrapped around his hand and tugged it along with the food closer to her face, her mouth expectantly open like a baby bird waiting for a worm.

"Apologies, highness," he said to the girl, resuming his original task of feeding her.

He waited until she finished chewing and he had removed her from her chair before he sighed again heavily, resignedly.

"I suppose the pantry is a bit low on fresh ingredients," he commented evenly, standing and slinging Stella up into his arms.

Prompto lifted a hopeful gaze to Ignis, and his mouth slowly stretched into a smile before the adviser's words took their full effect and he popped up from his seat and rushed to Ignis, slinging his arms around the chamberlain in a stifling, over-exuberant hug.

"Score! You're the best, Iggy!"

Ignis pushed the excited younger man off.

"Yes, thank you, Prompto," he said, a trifle sarcastically. "Why don't you and Gladio prepare while I get Stella ready?"

The gunner pumped his fist in the air.

"You got it! C'mon, big guy!"

The two departed, Prompto with a happy hum and a hop, and Gladio with a knowing, teasing smile.

Ignis watched them go, and for what felt like the hundredth time, he sighed.

"What am I going to do with those two?" he asked the princess.

Stella only replied with a gurgle and a laugh as she wrapped her arms around Ignis' neck in an imitation of her clingy, blond uncle.

 _It's_ definitely _too early for this._

…

To step out of an expensive car into a hot, grocery store parking lot wearing Lucis Bank sunglasses, holding a baby who was making spit bubbles with her mouth and laughing about it while still managing to look cool was a level of epic that Ignis personally hoped he would never reach. Not that he thought it was a bad thing to keep up appearances in even the most harrowing of circumstances, he just preferred not to attract quite as many awestruck stares as Gladio currently was. Then again, the Shield drew people's eyes no matter where he was or what he was doing. In fact, Ignis would have been concerned for the man or woman who _didn't_ spare a second glance at Gladiolus. It was sort of hard to miss a tattooed, six-foot-six man with scars and thirty-two inch biceps; let alone a tattooed, six-foot-six man with scars, thirty-two inch biceps and a _baby._

Actually, as Ignis swept his gaze around the parking lot, he noted that most of Gladio's admirers were female. The chamberlain shook his head. He'd never understood women.

Rather than squirming under the scrutiny from a hundred pairs of eyes, the Shield grinned, flashing a wide, white-toothed grin at the poor, innocent shoppers, lifting his sunglasses to wink at any woman who happened to meet his eye.

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and breathed deeply.

"Gladio, do try to remember that we are here to _shop,_ not to frighten the female population."

"Oh, don't worry, Iggy, I'm shoppin'. _Window_ shoppin'," Gladio replied, grinning and making a flirtatious clicking sound with his tongue at a pretty redhead girl who passed by a bit uncomfortably.

Ignis jabbed him hard in the side, digging his elbow into the larger man with a painful twist.

"Ow!" Gladio exclaimed with a growl, stepping away from the dangerous chamberlain, "gods, buzz off, Iggy!"

Prompto, sliding out of the back seat and slamming the door behind him, laughed at the display.

"C'mon, big guy! Groceries before girls!" he joked, "let's go charm the Cup Noodles."

The blond flicked his own sunglasses down over his eyes, wiggling his eyebrows amorously before spinning on his heel to go flirt with a cheap, boxed lunch food.

"Said the man who's already married," the Shield humphed, trudging less enthusiastically behind.

"And yet I seem to be doing just fine," Ignis retorted, taking up the rear of the group.

"Not for long!" Prompto called back, hopping backwards for a few paces to face the chamberlain before pivoting again to enter the doors of the store. Ignis quickened his pace to keep up with the blond, feeling the frigid blast of the air conditioning as the automatic doors parted before them and they stepped into the interior of the store.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, drawing level with Prompto as the soft music from the store's speakers surrounded them.

"Oh, ya'know," the gunner replied lamely, skipping to the line of carts and pulling one free after a few seconds of wrestling, "I just sort of assumed there was, uh… _someone_ you were interested in, is all."

Ignis crossed his arms and cast a serious gaze over Prompto as Gladio stepped around him to put Stella in the front seat of the cart.

"No, Prompto, there is no one I am, as you say, 'interested in.' Pray tell, what are you implying?"

It wasn't a question; it was a dare. He knew _exactly_ what the blond man was implying, and Prompto knew it too.

Something in his face must have set off the alarm bells in his younger friend's head, because Prompto backtracked almost instantly.

"O-oh," he stuttered with faked innocence, "is there no one? I only meant to say that you seem like the type that girls would find… uh… nice?"

It sounded more like a question more than a statement, but Ignis decided to pity the poor man and let him off the hook.

"I see," he said impassively, indicating to everyone present that this conversation was _over._

Not even Gladio objected.

…

"You guys ever wonder why there's like… twenty billion different kinds of peanut butter?" Prompto asked as he leaned over a low shelf lined with row upon row of the nutty condiment. "I mean, c'mon! Is there even a difference between crunchy and extra crunchy? Why would you even bother with crunchy at all if the only kind anyone ever uses is smooth?"

He paused, frowning at the jars as if they had personally offended him before he threw out a hand to gesture dramatically at them.

"And why are there so many brands!? They all taste _exactly the same!_ If you want your Jif to rival Skippy over here, then at least have some disparity between the flavors!"

Ignis hummed in response, only half listening to Prompto's rant as he browsed a display of spices on the other side of the aisle, occasionally sparing a glance at Stella to make sure she wasn't trying to eat the leek he'd let her hold for entertainment. For once, she didn't seem to have a desire to consume the item in her hand, oddly content to simply stick her fingers into the tiny, round holes in the vegetable bag to pet the leek, her awestruck "ooh!" accompanying the action each time it was performed. She also appeared to think that Ignis or Gladio might find the vegetable as incredible as she did, and kept trying to attract their attention with it, urging them to put their fingers in the bag holes to stroke her new leek friend. Ignis indulged her once, but after that he left the veggie petting to the Shield, who could barely fit his large fingers through the plastic without ripping it completely.

It was a noble effort nonetheless.

"Dude the Peter Pan brand is freaking _huge!_ " Prompto continued animatedly, picking up the product and turning it in his hands experimentally, _"_ and so cheap, too! Jeez, why would anyone pay more for any of these tiny jars if you can get this honking thing for two nickles and some pocket lint? And—whoa! This one has _honey_ in it! That's brilliant! Never have to worry about making a peanut butter and honey sandwich anymore with _this_ baby around!"

"Prompto," Gladio cut in irritably, his index finger still lodged into the leek bag, "first off, no one has ever had a problem making a sandwich with two ingredients except you; second, why is this even such a big deal to you? Aren't you allergic to peanuts?"

"Highly," Ignis confirmed wryly as he reached up to swipe a box of crushed sage from the shelf above him.

Prompto sheepishly replaced the peanut butter to its original resting place.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean I don't wonder sometimes. I've, uh, never actually had peanut butter before."

Gladio nodded.

"Fair," he grunted, then paused thoughtfully.

"Wait…" he drawled, "you said that every brand of peanut butter tasted the same, but you couldn't have known that if you've never had it. What made you so sure?"

"Hm?" the blond hummed as he drifted a pace or two down the aisle to survey a shelf of jam, "oh, Noct told me."

"You had a conversation with the King of Lucis about peanut butter?"

"Prince," Prompto corrected. "He was the _Prince_ of Lucis at the time. That was back in high school."

Alright. Now Ignis' interest was piqued. He turned away from the spices to watch the exchange between his two friends.

"In _high school?_ " Gladio parroted with a snort, "why the hell would two high school boys talk about peanut butter? Why not, like, how much calculus sucks or about hot chicks or any normal thing that teenage boys talk about?"

Prompto picked up a jar of strawberry jelly and placed it in the cart absently as he replied, "I dunno, man, it was late and we were slaphappy!"

"Late?" Ignis repeated skeptically, cutting into the conversation, "it must have been, if Noct was, as you put it 'slaphappy.'"

The blond turned to him, this time with a wide smile at the memory.

"Dude, it was four thirty in the morning after about six or seven straight hours of gaming, soda, and pizza rolls."

Ignis raised an eyebrow knowingly, suddenly recollecting the scenario that the gunner described.

"Ah, yes. _That_ night." He added no further comments, and went back to browsing the spices, leaving Gladio hopelessly in the dark, a look of confusion on his face.

"What night? What's he talkin' about, Prompto?" the Shield questioned.

The gunner waved the inquiry off with a flap of his hand.

"Oh, it was just some wild sleepover Noct and I had back when we were both freshmen. Our first, in fact. Man, things got crazy at that one! Thank the Astrals I had my Epipen!"

"What!?"

"Y'know, an Epipen? Those thing that you use to—"

"I know what it is! What I want to know is what the hell went down at that sleepover!?"

"Crazy stuff. Noct bought me a new camera after that to make up for it."

"Make up for what!?" Gladio demanded. He seemed to have completely forgotten about Stella and the fact that his finger was still poking the leek.

Prompto shook his head, his mouth narrowing into a thin line as he looked up at the ceiling in recollection.

"Oh, that was stupid," he mused at the fluorescent lights high above, "I only wanted to rest my head on the smooth surface of a royalty-approved brand of a popular lunch food."

Ignis had, at this point, almost completely tuned out the conversation. Having lived through that particular event himself—not a fond memory—he felt no need to reminisce upon it, and instead focused his mind upon tallying the total cost of their groceries thus far, ignoring the way Stella had begun to chant, "ah! ah!" repeatedly as she inserted her finger into the opposite side of the leek bag from Gladio, who was still grilling Prompto about his disastrous first slumber party with the heir apparent to the Lucian throne.

And so, of course, that had to be the moment when _she_ turned down the aisle. Tight black jeans, tall boots, a gray tank top, sunglasses resting on her silver hair, Aranea entered the scene with all the sudden shock of a thunderclap. It was like something out of a poorly-written comedy. The only woman Ignis had ever felt… differently around stepping into the picture as if her entrance were rehearsed just as Prompto mumbled dreamily about taking a nap on a peanut butter pillow while Gladio yelled at him, both his and Stella's fingers shoved into a leek bag as the baby chanted as if the two of them were performing some kind of dark veggie ritual and Ignis mumbled softly to himself in the corner, tallying gil while staring absently at oregano.

Her laugh, bright, with that tiny, shameless snort at the end, brought the chamberlain's attention to her in an instant, his monetary calculations falling away from his mind at her presence.

"Yeah, don't think I'm even gonna ask about this one," she said with a smile, shifting her weight onto one leg and planting a hand on her hip as she studied the foursome.

"Oh, hey, Aranea!" Prompto greeted, his face turning faintly red, "long time no see. Ah… how much of that did you just hear, anyway?"

"Enough, blondie. Enough," she replied, moving further into the aisle so as not to block the entrance before she walked over to the cart, placing her basket of groceries on the ground to crouch down with her hands on her knees to greet Stella.

"Hey there, you stinker, what're you doing hanging out with these three losers?" she asked, her tone teasing as she playfully tapped Stella on the nose.

The baby laughed, her face crinkling under Aranea's finger before she lifted up her leek to show it to the tall woman. Stella was familiar with Aranea, and was thus not at all nervous around her. The Dragoon came and went from the Citadel on many occasions for business or to talk or simply give Luna what she called "some godforsaken female company," an arrangement that the Queen of Lucis didn't object to in the slightest.

Aranea patted the vegetable, commenting on how nice it was before she straightened and retrieved her basket of groceries.

"So," she began, turning to the chamberlain with a smirk, "what _are_ you guys doing with the princess? This isn't a kidnapping, is it?"

Ignis shook his head, a little smile of his own rising on his face.

"On the contrary," he said, "we've been tasked with watching her for a time. I felt that Noct and Lady Lunafreya were being overexerted in the care of Stella, so I persuaded them to take some time off."

Aranea raised an eyebrow. "So in short: you're babysitting now?"

Ignis nodded in consent.

"If you wish to put it bluntly, then yes, we are babysitting."

The Dragoon laughed, her green eyes alight with good humor.

"Never thought I'd see the day! How's that workin' for ya?" she asked. Ignis began to reply that everything was going well, but Prompto beat him to the punch, chiming unhelpfully from where he still stood by the peanut butter, "Iggy called me at like, five AM begging for a rescue. It was very damsel!"

"Four Eyes was begging?" Aranea chuckled, "I'd have loved to hear that!"

"I was not 'begging!'" the adviser objected testily, his posture stiffening, "I was simply inquiring if you would be available to assist me, Prompto."

"That's just a fancy way of saying 'begged,' Iggy," Gladio rumbled. The Shield had shifted a bit farther from the cart, his arms crossed, having finally taken his finger out of the leek bag.

Ignis looked up at the larger man warningly, his hand meaningfully tapping the pocket that held his phone, reminding Gladio of the picture he had snapped the day before. He didn't like to stoop so low as to use blackmail, but the Shield was starting to turn his moral compass a few degrees shy of true north.

Gladio smiled back, patting his own pocket in silent reply.

Oh. That's right. The Shield had ammunition too. Ignis dropped his hand with a scowl, prepared to hunker down behind the trenches of what was surely the beginning of a cold war.

Aranea, judging from her interested expression, hadn't missed the exchange, but she blessedly kept any and all comments to herself.

"Well, it sounds like you boys have had a rough time of it," she observed. "I'd gladly come by sometime to give you a hand if you need it."

" _You_ want to help _us_ watch a baby?" Prompto questioned in surprise. Ignis had a similar—though internal—reaction. Not that he didn't expect Aranea to offer assistance to them—she wasn't entirely without class—but she also didn't seem the type to have had any experience with children.

At all.

The Dragoon looked almost offended at Prompto's astonishment.

"What?" she said, moving her hand back to her hip, "you think I can't? I may be a Commodore, but I'm also a woman. It's called 'maternal intuition,' sweetheart."

"No, no!" the blond back peddled, "it's not _that,_ it's just that you're sort of scary! No-not in a bad way! Just, I dunno… intimidating?"

Six, Prompto was bad at this. Ignis decided to step in and diffuse the situation.

"We would be most grateful for your presence, Aranea," he told her, and she grinned back.

"Good. You look like you need it."

 **Yeah, I'm not super happy with this chapter either (what artist is ever satisfied with their work, though?) but I really wanted to get this out so y'all could read it. I can't promise that the next chapter will be posted soon because my inspiration is failing me, and my work seems kinda cruddy to me… yeesh. I need help. Don't worry, though. I'm still going to write even if I don't like it. It's the only way out of the dark pit of despair! :D**


	7. Day 3-Part 2: Beachside and Broccoli

**Call me Mrs. Fluff n' Stuff!**

 _Day 3 (Galdin Quay)._

Luna awoke with the sun.

Her eyes opened slowly, blissfully, as she was brought out of slumber by her own power and not by that of a screaming baby. Worried as she was about her daughter and all the mischief she was likely causing for poor Ignis, the concern felt distant on mornings like this, with the sparkling light reflected on the ocean waves shining in through the hotel window, casting rippling patterns on her pillow. Everything felt fresh and clear, the air smelling of salt, carried to her nose on the snapping breeze whipped up by the sea.

She stretched in bed, raising her arms above her head and clumsily bumping her knuckles against the headboard. She laughed quietly at her own carelessness and sat up, brushing aside the strands of blonde hair that had escaped her braid during the night and turned her head to the left, expecting to see the sleeping form of her husband beside her.

… Except that Noctis was gone.

That was odd. He hardly ever got up before her. In fact, it was almost unheard of. They were exact opposites when it came to sleep schedules—Luna liked to turn in earlier and _rise_ earlier, whereas Noctis stayed up until the most ungodly hours, falling asleep only when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and remaining that way for as long as he could get away with. Luna herself couldn't imagine what that would be like—wasting the day in such a manner, but Noct didn't seem in the least bit concerned about it, so she let him be.

That was the norm, whereas this… this wasn't. Of course, Lunafreya was never one to jump to conclusions—Noctis could just as easily have gotten up to use the bathroom or because he was hungry—and so she stood to study the room before she made herself worry.

And one _always_ worried about Noct. Even after his ascent to the throne and his growth into a more mature individual, there were still plenty of times when he would go off and do the most idiotic things—from having eating contests with Gladio to _dirt racing_ in the Star of Lucis with Prompto. Those times were few and far between, but Luna had learned very quickly that it payed to be cautious.

It didn't take long for the Oracle-turned-Queen to discern that Noctis wasn't in their room. The bathroom was vacant, and his night clothes were strewn on the floor, left in a jumbled mess where he'd changed out of them.

That was another thing about the King of Lucis. He hated doing even the smallest amount of laundry.

Luna frowned, absently lowering herself to the floor to fold his clothes as she pondered where he'd gone at such an early hour. The only things she could come up with that would draw _Noctis_ of all people to leave bed before sunrise was food or fishing.

She finished folding and stored his clothes in the dresser before changing out of her own night things and re-braiding her hair, making herself presentable before leaving her room.

Noctis wasn't in the restaurant outside. He would have been easy to spot had he been, as there were only a few patrons scattered about the open-air dining room, some still rather bleary at this early hour of the morning. The only person who seemed to be wholly awake, in fact, was the woman preparing breakfast in the round kitchenette area in the middle of the Mother of Pearl. Luna recognized her as Coctura, an acquaintance of theirs who had helped Noctis in the early stages of his ascension to the throne.

Granted, that "help" had been sending him on slightly life-threatening hunts for cash, but Luna didn't hold that against her.

She approached the counter, and Coctura raised her head as the sound of her footsteps drew near.

"Good morning, your majesty," the woman greeted her brightly, "how may I help you today?"

"Hello, Coctura," Luna returned, her eyes still flicking instinctively about for a sight of her missing husband, "I was just wondering if you happened to see Noctis this morning?"

Coctura placed a finger on her pursed lips in thought.

"The king, huh? I think I saw him going down to the dock earlier."

Luna nodded.

"He must be fishing, then. Thank you."

She turned to leave, but the other woman stopped her with a word.

"I don't think he was fishing. At least, I didn't see him carrying any tackle with him. Forgive me for asking but… is he alright, do you think? I haven't seen him out this early for as long as you've stayed here."

The Oracle smiled back.

"I'm sure he's fine. Thank you for your concern. I'd best go find him."

Coctura nodded, and Luna turned away with a wave, her face falling into a frown as soon as her back was turned to the cook.

He wasn't fishing, not unless he'd suddenly up and decided to keep all his tackle in the Armiger, which Luna doubted. Noctis hardly used the power of kings unless he had to, and not even _he_ was lazy enough to stick a single box into the Armiger just to save himself the trouble of carrying it. She hoped he really was alright as she had assured Coctura.

Luna descended the stairs on the south side of the Mother of Pearl, walking past the vacant benches that sat on the port, turning the corner at the open gate that opened onto the broad dock and catching sight of a dark figure sitting at the very end of the wooden pier, their face turned toward Angelgard as the cold breeze tossed their dark hair haphazardly about.

Luna knew in an instant that it was Noctis.

She crossed the remaining distance over the dock and settled down quietly next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest to ward off the chilly morning wind. She said nothing as she recognized the thoughtful, distant look on his face. He got like this occasionally. Noctis was often quiet and withdrawn, but this was a different kind of reserved. It was in his nature to be elusive, sometimes downright asocial—this, however, was his reflective silence. The only difference between those two "modes" was that little line that formed between his eyebrows and the slight wrinkle of his forehead.

It was at times like these when he began to take on eerie resemblance to his father, a fact that Luna wasn't sure if she admired or dreaded.

She waited, knowing that he would speak if he had something to say, but content to enjoy the silence with him should he forego speaking.

The waves lapped gently, a stronger gust of wind blowing over the water and sending an icy spray over Luna's toes. She shivered, wondering aimlessly why the sea was so cold in the middle of summer.

Her presence hadn't gone unnoticed by Noctis, but it wasn't until half of the rosy sun had risen over the rippling tides that he finally spoke.

"It was worth it for this."

Luna looked up, a bit startled. She had begun to think that he wasn't going to say anything, so his voice had caught her off guard.

"What's that?" she asked, turning her blue eyes on him. He wasn't looking back. His gaze stared outward, over the ocean toward the rising sun so all she could see was the side of his face and the expression of peaceful satisfaction there.

"I'm glad I did it—accepted what it meant to be my father's son, I mean. I still miss him… a lot, but sometimes, on mornings like these, it's almost like… like he's trying to show me that maybe he's proud of me, I guess."

Luna smiled gently. So that's what this was all about. She turned her head back to face the dawn that the man sitting beside her had returned to the world and rested her head on Noctis' shoulder.

"He is," she replied quietly, "and so are we all."

Noctis leaned his cheek against the top of her head, and though she couldn't see it, she could feel the smile on his lips. They remained that way as the sun climbed past the rim of the ocean, bathing the sky in gold.

Noctis chuckled.

"Luna," he murmured into her hair, "that was sort of sappy."

The melancholy tone was gone from his voice, and she had to laugh as well, lifting her head from his shoulder.

"Don't pretend it didn't make you happy, though," she retorted, her eyes alight with amusement.

"I'd never dream of it!"

"Good, wouldn't want you to—" the Oracle stopped mid-sentence as she caught sight of a flicker of movement under the water by the dock, then, realizing what it was she warned with an undignified squeak, "Noctis, there's a large fish by your foot!"

The king, who had been dangling one of his legs over the edge of the pier, looked down with a confused "what?" a second before the aquatic creature darted boldly forward and chomped greedily down on Noctis' big toe.

He yelped, jerking his foot out of the water, losing his balance in the process and falling backward onto the wooden planks of the dock.

The fish had it worse. Still clamped down on the king's foot when Noctis began jerking like a spasmodic octopus, it was unexpectedly pulled straight out the water, it's pitiful, lidless eyes betraying a kind of fish-y confusion before the foot it was attached to kicked upward, and the animal was punted like a football over the waves. For a moment it was silhouetted against the sun, the dark shadow of a fish flying above the ocean before it plummeted back down to land with a slapping splash into the salty tide.

"Dammit, why do fish have to have _teeth?_ " Noctis grumbled, rubbing his injured toe and looking offendedly at the ocean as if it had done him a personal wrong.

Which, in this case, it had.

Luna snorted indelicately, trying to hold back laughter as Noctis turned that wounded look on her instead.

"Hey, that hurt, you know!" he tried to defend himself. "That was a huge fish!"

Luna managed to reign in her fit of giggles enough to reply, "yes, I know. I'm sorry, Noctis. Here, let me see your foot."

Cautiously optimistic, Noctis raised his leg so that Luna could take hold of his foot. To his credit, there were some reddish dents in his toe where the fish had tried to bite it off, but other than that, the Oracle could see no damage. It wasn't even bleeding.

Humoring him, though, Luna bent her head over his foot and began to whisper.

"Blessed starts of life and light…" she got no further than that before she burst into unladylike laughter, dropping Noctis' foot and covering her mouth with her hand as her shoulders shook and tears sprang to her eyes.

Noctis seemed to be struggling to keep his own irritated facade up, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement at his own plight.

"Now, don't try to—damn it, Luna!"

And before she knew it, the Oracle heard Noctis' deeper yet no less mirthful laugh joining in with hers.

…

"That's odd," Luna commented, "I just received a message from Prompto."

The two royals were back in their quarters at the beach-side hotel, cooling off after a lengthy afternoon of outdoor activities—of which swimming had been the most prominent. They had returned indoors when the heat had became altogether too stifling and sticky, and had both showered to wash the sand and saltwater out of their hair upon their arrival. Noctis had just emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel through his ebony hair to dry it, and he looked to where Luna perched on the side of the bed as she spoke.

"That's not completely out of the ordinary," the king hummed as he crossed the room to plop down beside Luna, "he _is_ Prompto, after all."

"Yes, I realize that he can be a bit exuberant at times, but it only seemed odd to me that he should contact _me_ before _you_ ," the Oracle replied smoothly, swiping her finger across the screen of her phone to unlock it.

Noctis wasn't sure why, but something about seeing her doing an ordinary activity like checking her messages was strange to him. She had always seemed so… mystical, so high above worldly things that he never envisioned her with a mundane item like a smart phone.

It almost seemed on par with Bahamut up and texting him a selfie with the word "LOL" beneath it.

Wrong. Just… wrong.

He didn't comment on any of this, however, asking instead, "what'd he have to say?"

"Checking…" Luna mumbled, almost to herself as she opened Prompto's message.

"It looks like a video," she told Noctis after a moment, eyeing the play button in the middle of the screen almost warily.

Ah. That meant she had gained a healthy fear of Prompto's irregular, unprompted messages. Good. She might survive having him as a friend after all.

"May as well see what it is," Noctis suggested carelessly. It couldn't be anything _too bad_ if he had sent the video to Luna of all people. Then again, this was Prompto. Once anyone entered into his "family circle," they were subject to every ounce of his eccentricities.

Despite his cool tone, the king grit his jaw tensely as Luna clicked "play" and turned the phone sideways so the two could see it better.

They fell silent as they heard Gladio's voice rumbling softly from somewhere off-screen, "you're good to go."

The scene opened on Ignis' living room, everything appearing miraculously clean and organized despite Stella's presence in the premises. Prompto was standing by the door of the suite, a crinkly, plastic grocery bag slung over one arm as he grinned excitedly at the camera. The Shield was obviously the one filming, but Noctis could see no trace of Ignis or his daughter anywhere.

"Hey, you guys!" Prompto greeted in a stage whisper, "hope your vacay's going well and you're both enjoying yourselves out there. As you can see-" he held up the bag, the thin plastic crackling with the jostle it received—"we have just gone shopping because Iggy ran out of food, and while we were there, I discovered this awesome trick that I think you two lovebirds should know about: the secret of silencing your very loud baby."

His smile widened gleefully.

"So, as you can probably hear-" he paused, and as his voice faded, the sound of the princess' whining cries reached the phone speakers—"Stella is not very happy right now because she refused to take a nap earlier—totally her fault, please don't kill me!—and Iggy's in the kitchen with her right now while he's making supper for us all."

Prompto winked at the camera.

"And I'm about to make his life ten times easier by working some serious magic!"

He beckoned to the unseen Gladio to follow, then moved to the kitchen. There, the cameraman Shield took the liberty of angling the lens toward the floor where Stella sat on a plush blanket, surrounded by toys that didn't seem to be entertaining her one bit. She wasn't _wailing,_ which was a relief, but she was making grating, whining sounds, her face red and puckered. She was definitely displeased, but that seemed to be her default mood, so Noct wasn't about to blame his friends for any lack of care on their part.

After a few seconds, Gladio moved the camera up where Prompto came back into view, along with Ignis, who stood next to him by the stove, preparing another one of his culinary masterpieces.

"'Sup, Iggy," Prompto said, almost as though it was a rehearsed line, "food coming along good?"

Gods, he could be so theatrical sometimes.

Ignis apparently thought the same as he turned away from the stove to stare, unimpressed, at Prompto, one eyebrow arching over the rim of his glasses in an expression of careless skepticism.

"It's 'coming along _well,'_ Prompto," he corrected patiently, "and yes, everything seems to be going smoothly. It'll be done presently."

"Solid," the blond replied with a grin, the strange response eliciting another arch look from the chamberlain.

He looked too innocent, Noctis reflected, and again, Ignis seemed to reach the same conclusion. The adviser lowered the wooden spoon he was holding, dropping it carefully into the large pot on the stove and shifted so that his entire body now faced in Prompto's direction.

"Alright," he said, dropping all pretense of small-talk, "what's this about, then?"

His tone was accusatory, and Prompto quickly held up his hands in defense.

"Nothing, dude! I swear, I'm not here to like, color on your face again or whatever."

" _Again?"_ Noctis mouthed silently to Luna, who only shrugged and shook her head in response. He'd definitely have to grill Ignis about that one when he got back to Insomnia.

He turned his attention back to Luna's phone as Ignis' voice floated up out of the speaker again.

"Nothing?" the chamberlain echoed, "then why, pray tell, is Gladio filming us right now? Really, the two of you might at least _try_ not to make this job more strenuous than it needs to be."

Prompto grinned brightly as Gladio huffed something about "just trying to help" off-screen.

"No worries, man," the blond quipped brightly, "we got your back! Just check this out. Trust me, you're gonna be singing my praises after this."

He moved away from Ignis who, for all his obvious doubts, watched impassively from the sidelines as Prompto crouched down on the floor beside Stella and looked up at the camera like he was on some cheesy sitcom and stated importantly, "let there never be any doubt that this is Noct's kid."

So saying, he put his grocery bag down on the floor and pulled a rather large head of broccoli from it, its green sides still wet with cold condensation.

 _What in the name of all the Astrals?_ Noctis pondered, wondering what his friend intended to do with that accursed vegetable.

Prompto didn't say a word to the crying baby, and silently, smugly, placed the broccoli down on the blanket directly in front of her. Instantly, as Stella's eyes caught sight of it, she went dead quiet, her face a comical mixture of disgust and outright fear as she startled backward, nearly falling over before Gladio's hand shot out from behind the camera to catch her.

Noctis made a mental note to thank him for that later.

After that, Stella went stiff as a board. Her eyes were locked on the broccoli with such intense focus that it seemed as if she feared that, should she blink, the vegetable would pounce.

Prompto barked with laughter at her wide-eyed expression, and Gladio's rumbling chuckle followed a moment later. Even Ignis appeared to be smiling where he stood in the background.

Swallowing his mirth, the gunner reached out and took the broccoli away, putting it behind his back, out of sight of Stella.

She resumed her crying as if the vegetable had never been there, loud and piercing as ever.

Prompto put the broccoli back before her, and she went quiet again. The blond kept up the pattern until all three of them were laughing at Stella's expense.

"Well," he laughed, looking back to the camera, "I think that's it for Noct and Luna's update! We're all doing fine here, and hey! Maybe next I can send you guys a picture of Ignis' face when me and Glad—ah!"

He screamed as the adviser in question moved like a torpedo across the kitchen and slammed his hand over Prompto's mouth to stop the words from forming.

"And I believe we'll leave it at that, Prompto," Ignis said sternly, warningly, though his eyes seemed to betray a kind of pleading desperation. Whatever it was that Prompto was referring to, Ignis did _not_ seem to want that information divulged.

 _What_ did _those two do to poor Iggy?_ Noctis wondered with a snicker. He could only imagine what his unfortunate chamberlain was suffering at their hands. He was _so_ going to have Prompto spill all the juicy details the second he returned.

The video ended as Prompto, with a wicked look in his eyes, licked Ignis' hand to make him move it, and the adviser jerked back with an uncultured, "bloody hell, Prompto!" as Gladio very unhelpfully laughed at them both, and Stella gazed in continuous horror at the broccoli.

Astrals, Noct missed them all.


	8. Day 4: The World's Smallest Match Maker

**Y'all ever been sitting in your room and then you suddenly smell caterpillars? That just happened. It was weird. Sorry, gotta share your life with _somebody,_ am'iright?**

 _Day 4._

"Did you know you sleep like a Disney princess?" a deep, feminine voice drawled as soon as Ignis walked into the kitchen the next morning.

The chamberlain started in surprise, his gaze flicking over to the table where Aranea sat, her feet, crossed at the ankle, set upon it, her chair rocked back on two legs as she sipped nonchalantly from a mug—one of Ignis' own—of fragrant coffee.

This was unexpected—in more ways than one. Ignis had known that the Dragoon had planned to drop by for a visit, but he hadn't counted on her arriving at five-thirty in the morning, drinking what was undoubtedly _his_ coffee and commenting on the fact that she had apparently watched him sleep.

Ordinarily, perhaps a bit later in the day, he would have been able to counter that remark with his own witticism, made a smooth repartee and engaged in a battle of words with her, but caught off guard as he was, all he could manage was a slightly flustered, "I beg your pardon?"

He couldn't exactly be faulted for it—after all, the only thing he'd expected to find in the kitchen that morning was the ingredients for breakfast, not an ex-mercenary who seemed hell-bent on making him feel as uncomfortable as possible.

Aranea grinned over the rim of her mug, and Ignis realized too late that he'd blundered right into her trap.

He had just enough time to blame his carelessness on the early hour before the woman spoke again.

"It was pretty adorable, actually. Your hair was freakin' wild, but that just added to the charm. And you know? I think you look better without your glasses."

Ignis started across the room to the refrigerator to collect what he needed to prepare breakfast as he replied dryly, "hm, that _is_ a coincidence. Your appearance is improved without my glasses as well."

Finally, his words had returned.

Aranea laughed, her head tossed back.

"Touche, Four-Eyes!" she barked in amusement, "touche!"

Ignis turned his back to her to root through the refrigerator to hide his smile—though for all Aranea knew, he could have just been looking for inspiration for the morning's breakfast.

To avoid her suspicion, he pulled a carton eggs off the shelf before turning back, having mastered his smirk.

"So," the Dragoon started, tipping the chair back onto four legs and snatching a pear from the bowl of fruit on the table, "you have any more thrilling plans for the day, or do I have to get the party rolling?"

Ignis shrugged, retrieving a skillet from a hanging peg above the sink before setting about preparing a meal as Aranea began to munch noisily on the pear.

"I hadn't contrived anything as of this moment, no," the chamberlain replied, cracking an egg over the pan and dropping it onto the heated surface, "though you're welcome to apprise me of any suggestions you may have."

Aranea quirked one eyebrow upward and swallowed her bite of fruit before commenting matter-of-factly, "you know, you could've just said 'I don't know.' Why do you talk like that anyway, Specs? You're so uptight."

Ignis paused in his cooking and turned over his shoulder to look at her, blinking. He'd never really given much thought to that himself.

"I… had always been taught that a retainer to the king must maintain a certain level of decorum in any situation," he replied a trifle haltingly. "My lessons as a child simply stayed with me, I suppose. And after all," he offered the woman one of his rare smiles of genuine amusement, "one of us has to have some class around here, wouldn't you say?"

Aranea chuckled, chomping into her snack again with a rather ill-mannered "damn right!" before she sobered.

"But, ya know, I don't think it's entirely fair, either."

The chamberlain frowned.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, uncomprehending.

Aranea made a frustrated gesture with her hands, nearly knocking her coffee off the table in the process.

"I mean, why didn't they, like, give you a choice or something? Not to sound harsh, Four-Eyes, but you were basically born to be the king's servant. Doesn't that bug you? Don't you ever want to live your own life?"

Ignis turned back to the cooking food, smiling down at his task as he reminisced.

"There was a time when I shared your sentiment, yes," he informed her. "That was back before Noct and I were acquainted. I had… hardly even seen the boy I was to dedicate my life and services to at that time, and I must admit that I thought much the same as you do now. I often wondered why I was required to study so rigorously for someone I had never met, let alone cared for in the slightest. It was quite frustrating, to be perfectly frank, and once or twice, I even thought what it would be like if I left."

"But you didn't," Aranea finished for him, her voice soft.

Ignis shook his head.

"No, I didn't. As much as I loathed the idea of monitoring the every move of what was then the future monarch, I realized that I had a duty, just as Noct had his. In that sense, he was much like me. Neither of us had a great deal of say in our lives, and we could either fight against a role that did us no harm in the long run, or accept our duty. I believe it goes without saying that we both decided upon the latter, though it may have taken Noct a bit longer than many would have hoped.

"That said, I am… quite content with the way my life has progressed thus far. I realized the fault in my childish thinking soon after I met Noct. He may behave in a rather… burdensome manner on occasion, but nonetheless, it is my desire to stand by him always. Besides," he concluded with a warm chuckle, "I can hardly imagine what I would do with myself if I wasn't tasked with keeping an eye on him. He has, if you'll pardon the expression, become my life by this point."

He turned back around in time to catch the gentle smile that lifted the corners of Aranea's mouth before she quickly dissolved it.

"Well," she replied, her tone reverting back to its usual playful timbre, "I guess now I know why Blondie calls you 'mom' behind your back."

"Mum's the word," Ignis retorted, unfazed. He had long been aware of his "nickname," but as of yet hadn't discovered who had started that particular trend among his three friends.

Hence, why he hadn't taken action yet. _Yet._

Pushing thoughts of sweet revenge from his mind, the retainer returned his attention to finishing the preparation of breakfast as Aranea polished off her pear and started on her coffee again—which, Ignis reflected with a discerning eye, had to be a highly unsavory flavor combination.

It didn't take him long to put the finishing touches on their meal, and in a few minutes he had whipped up a plateful of simple but delicious breakfast sandwiches that he placed on the table in front of Aranea.

The Dragoon picked one up and turned it a tad skeptically around in her hand.

"These look like those egg biscuit things they sell at the Crow's Nest in the mornings," she observed casually.

Ignis straightened slowly from where he was bent over the table, his mouth twisting in a subtle expression of distaste as he replied evenly, "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

She brushed off his offended tone with a wave of her hand.

"Kidding, Specs. Everyone knows you wouldn't touch the Crow's Nest with a fifty foot pole."

"Quite," Ignis replied with a huff of satisfaction, then, switching tracks, he told her, "do help yourself, there's no need to wait on the others. Prompto will likely sleep for another hour and Gladio will undoubtedly be procuring his own meal."

"Don't mind if I do," Aranea replied, digging right in.

Gods, that woman ate like an elephant. Ignis feared that between her and Gladio, he wouldn't have any food left by the end of the week.

…

Prompto awoke around the same time that Gladio arrived, and though the latter had—as Ignis had previously surmised—already eaten, he wasn't opposed to swiping two biscuits for himself only a few minutes after he walked in the door. Thankfully, Prompto only had one, feeling it necessary even after all these years to watch what he ate.

"Low metabolism is such a curse," he had moaned miserably.

An unfortunate burden for poor Prompto, but at least that meant their food rations would last.

After breakfast had been eaten and cleared away, Stella finally decided to join the party, screeching out to make her presence known to all.

"And she's up," Ignis observed, resisting the urge to sigh into the can of Ebony he held to his lips.

"Someone else take her this morning," Prompto exhorted, plopping down backwards on the floor of the living room to lie, splayed like a starfish, on the carpet. "I watched her all last night."

"Don't look at me," Gladio objected immediately, leaning his head on the back of the couch and closing his eyes, "I already took care of the turd-fest from hell yesterday."

Ignis leveled him with a scathing look.

"Shall we endeavor to avoid unnecessary vulgarity in the presence of a lady, Gladio?" he said, taking a superior sip of coffee in a manner that told the Shield he wasn't asking.

Aranea only laughed.

"Aw, thanks, Specs. But I don't really mind. Hunky here just wouldn't be himself if he started talking like you!"

Ignis eyed the large, lounging man with a critical eye.

"Hm… I almost wish he would," the chamberlain observed wryly.

Prompto and Aranea snickered, but Gladio didn't seem ruffled by the teasing at all as he smiled along with the rest of them.

"Well," the Dragoon stated, rising from her own chair, "Princess Loud-Mouth won't shut herself up. I'll take care of it."

Ignis started to stand, opening his mouth to insist that she remain where she was, but Aranea was having none of it.

"At ease, Four-Eyes. I came over here to help in the first place. I got this one."

Her tone brooked no argument, and after a second's hesitation, Ignis nodded and resumed his seat.

Aranea quickly retrieved Stella from her crib and carried her back out into the living room, talking to her calmingly all the while as the baby's cries faded to tiny sniffles.

"Where do you keep her food?" the woman asked Ignis when she came to a stop before him.

"In the bag on the kitchen counter," he replied, still loath to see her doing what should have been _his_ job, "though, I think it necessary to warn you: she refuses to eat it."

Aranea grinned slyly, replying mysteriously, "we'll see about that." Then, to Stella, "alright, Stinker, let's get you some breakfast."

The princess didn't offer any objections as the ex-mercenary carried her off to the kitchen, even having the gall to wave a trifle mockingly at the three boys over Aranea's shoulder as she disappeared around the corner.

"Devil women," Gladio dead-panned, looking after them with one eye cracked open.

Ignis couldn't refute that statement, so he nodded in agreement.

"Indeed."

…

Aranea returned a few minutes later with a smile on her face and an empty bottle in her hand that she waved tauntingly in front of them all.

"It's done and dusted, boys," she reported triumphantly.

Ignis' brow furrowed in frustration.

"How did you mange that?" he demanded, the unspoken _"_ _when I couldn't"_ floating in the air between them.

Aranea casually patted Stella on the back, the baby leaning contentedly on the woman's shoulder as she tossed Ignis a wink.

"I'm a girl," was the only explanation she gave.

The chamberlain had no reply to that.

…

The hours passed slowly by that day. Despite Aranea's question that morning about whether or not they were going to organize another outing, no one seemed too keen to follow through with that line of thinking. Four days of early mornings, hectic afternoons, and often sleepless nights had discouraged Ignis from even leaving his apartment, let alone the Citadel itself. He was quite content to stay at home, and, so it seemed, was everyone else. The other two men mightn't have endured quite as much as Ignis had at Stella's devious little hands, but they had been burned out by the past few days as well. Aranea simply didn't appear to want to press the issue, and recognizing how exhausted they all were, decided to help them in the calm atmosphere of Ignis' suite.

It was around five o' clock now, and the chamberlain was sitting on his floor again with Stella and Aranea. He hadn't even started dinner, but it was no matter—Gladio was handling the meal that evening, and even though he was ninety-nine percent sure that that meant they would all be having Cup Noodles within the hour, Ignis was grateful for his help.

He _really_ hadn't felt up to cooking a full meal anyway.

He could hear the Shield now, clattering away in the kitchen as he no doubt tore through the cupboards looking for a pot to boil water in, while Prompto snored gently on the couch, for once completely without his usual reserves of energy.

That left Ignis and Aranea to entertain the baby, which the Dragoon was doing a remarkable job of. The adviser wasn't sure _how_ she accomplishing that so far, but he was beginning to suspect that her gender may indeed have something to with it. After half a week spent solely in the company of men, Stella must have been starting to crave the presence of a more… nurturing individual. It couldn't be easy for someone of her age to spend so long without a mother's influence, and now that Aranea was here and the princess showed nothing but the highest delight in her company, Ignis wondered why he hadn't thought of that before.

No wonder she had become increasingly ornery over the past days.

For the present, Ignis didn't have to do much but sit and watch the exchanges between Stella and the ex-mercenary from the comfort of his living room floor.

"What's this thing?" Aranea asked the baby now, staring down at the rather out-of-proportion toy that the princess had just handed her.

"Is this a… Oh, it's a dog! Gods, that's horrifying. Why is its tongue bright red? Has it been eating people or something?"

Stella, of course, couldn't understand a word the woman said, but Aranea's continued attention to everything the she showed her seemed to encourage the girl tremendously, and she clapped excitedly every time the Dragoon brought forth another comment.

"Its feet are _huge._ You could probably flatten concrete with those suckers. What's a dog need such big feet for anyway? It kinda looks like it stepped in a beehive and got stung on each paw."

Stella giggled, clapping cheerfully before planting a very wet baby kiss on Aranea's cheek.

"Aw, thanks, kid," the woman said in reply, ruffling the princess' thin hair affectionately before Stella unexpectedly squirmed out of her lap and shimmied her way over to Ignis.

She couldn't exactly _crawl,_ per se, but she could manage a sort of "butt-scooch," as Prompto liked to call it, that got her around fairly quickly.

Stella moved over to him in no time at all, and began to tap his leg with her hand, uttering a soft, "bah?" as she pointed back at Aranea.

"What's that, Highness?" Ignis asked, trying to decipher the child's meaning in her cryptic actions and nonsensical words.

Stella only tapped him even more forcefully before she realized he couldn't understand, and scooted back to Aranea, patting the woman's cheek while looking expectantly back at Ignis.

"Bah," she repeated in a tone that the adviser would almost have described as _stern._

"I'm afraid your instructions still allude me," he replied, quirking an eyebrow at the baby in confusion.

If she hadn't been a mere six months old, Ignis could have sworn that she rolled her eyes at him after that, pointing to him directly, then poking Aranea's face again with one more satisfied, "bah."

The Dragoon caught on a second before he did, and she began to laugh mirthfully, cackling out, "I think she wants you to kiss me, Specs!" while he reeled with the sudden revelation.

"I-I don't think that would be…" he faltered. Since when did Ignis Scientia stumble over his words? He should have been able to come up with a suitable evasion to this unexpected turn of events, but for a dire, fearful second, his mind went blank, and all he could manage was, "I'm not sure that's an acceptable idea."

Aranea arched a pale eyebrow at him, and stated dryly, "ouch, Four-Eyes. You're killin' me here."

"Apologies," he recovered, as his words slowly began to filter back in, "it was not my intention to offend, merely that I don't believe it acceptable for me to intrude upon you in such a manner."

Aranea rolled her eyes to heaven, then, faster than Ignis could react, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"There," she said with a sense of finality, "that good enough for ya, Stinker?"

Stella grinned her wide, toothless grin in a way that most assuredly meant "yes," while Ignis sat rigidly on the carpet, his face a comical mask of shock.

This whole week had been nothing but an attack on his dignity. He could almost _hear_ the Astrals laughing at him.

 **Not very happy with this one, but I just wanted to finish it seeing as it's kinda late. Next chapter should be more fun, though.**


	9. Day 5-Part 1: Back From Atlantis

**Well, the time has finally arrived, my friends. As of the time I am writing this, classes will start in two days. Two days, and I will officially be a college freshman delving into the fabulous world of the English major… And my arm is sore because of my immunization boosters. Life is hard.**

 **Point is, this story (as well as Scourge of the King, another FFXV fic that I _accidentally_ started) will not be updated as often as I'd like, most probably. I have a feeling that things are gonna get funk-ay round here! Please be patient with me, and enjoy the chapter! :)**

 _Day 5—Part 1._

Noon on the fifth day since Noct and Lunafreya's departure began much the same as it usually did: Ignis prepared the meal, served it to all his hungry roommates—though the chamberlain thought a more accurate term for them at this point was "squatters"—which they consumed with ravenous, vulture-like voracity, and then he and Prompto cleaned the kitchen (Gladio never was much help with the chores, and besides, _someone_ needed to keep an eye on Stella).

It was a simple, easy routine they had fallen into, but that was all disrupted sometime in the last step of their midday schedule when Aranea burst through the door without so much as knocking, hair sticking to her sweaty face as she beamed at them all.

"Guess what, boys… and girl?" she asked rhetorically, "it's hot out today!"

"We can see that," Ignis replied, casting a meaningful glance at her red, perspiring features. "What, pray tell, do you expect us to do with this information?"

"Well, thanks for the enthusiasm, Four-Eyes," the woman commented, her own enjoyment not seeming to fade in the least despite Ignis' sarcastic response.

"What I mean is: Why don't we all go out to the lake or something? It sucks being cooped up in here all day long, and it's the perfect weather for it!"

The chamberlain hummed thoughtfully, scanning the panorama of suddenly-eager faces around the room. He couldn't say he was entirely opposed to the idea—it was rather sultry outdoors—and they had all slept well the night before, so a deficit of energy didn't come into the picture either, but…

"I'm concerned about the security risks involved in such a venture," he admitted, a tad reluctantly. "Stella is the one and only heir to the Lucian throne, and if anything should happen to her, it would not only be her family who suffers. We are at a time of peace, but there is always the rogue idealist who believes a world without monarchy would suit his purposes best. If anyone like that were to get their hands on Her Highness, I fear the consequences would be grave."

He didn't like to crush their hopes like that, but the voice of reason wasn't often forgiving.

"Aw, come off it, Iggy," Gladio said, wincing as Stella, who rested in the Shield's arms, tugged sharply on his hair.

"It's not like we won't be there to watch out for her, and I doubt there's anyone waiting around at the lake to murder a baby. Besides, it's not like anyone would recognize her on sight without the royal lovebirds around, anyway."

 _Well, of course if you put it_ that _way, it sounds ridiculous,_ Ignis thought with a scowl, hating that straight-forward reasoning that Gladio so infamously supplied at the _worst times_.

"All the same," he countered, deciding not to reprimand the Shield for his linear thinking, "it never hurt to be cautious. As it stands, I believe using the indoor pool here at the Citadel would be a wiser course of action."

Prompto groaned and stuck out his bottom lip in a mixture of distaste and pouty disappointment.

"That's no fun," he droned mournfully, "half the experience of swimming is sun-tanning and soda coolers! You can't do that _inside._ "

"I agree with Blondie," Aranea sided, "the whole point of going to the lake in the first place was to get _out_ of this boring palace anyway."

"Bah!" Stella added, glaring at Ignis. Gods, why did it _always_ feel like she knew more than she let on? The chamberlain was half-convinced by this point that the baby understood every word they said.

"I'm loathe to do anything that will put the princess in danger…" Ignis tried again, hoping to make them see reason.

He should have known that they wouldn't. Aranea just burst into laughter, her eyes lighting with a mischief that could have rivaled Stella's as she shot back, "I get it! You're embarrassed, aren't you?"

 _What?_

"I beg your pardon?" Ignis asked, genuinely confused. This conversation had turned in a completely foreign direction all of a sudden, and he was almost afraid of where it would lead from here.

"I bet you've never worn a swimsuit in your life, Specs!" the Dragoon guffawed. "Wouldn't surprise me in the least if you'd been born in dress pants and a collared shirt and they just grew with you!"

 _Ah. That's what this is all about._

Ignis would have liked to deny her words, but the troubling truth was: she was right—not about being born in preppy clothes, of course, but the implications of her statement were correct—he'd never felt comfortable in swimming attire. For the most part, it just seemed a feeble excuse that the masses used to wear as little as possible without getting arrested for it. Swim suits were too tight, too clingy, and often woefully… small.

Ignis didn't like them in the slightest, but neither Aranea nor the other two men in the room needed to know that.

"I dress according to my station," he said instead, a bit huffily, attempting to deflect the woman's attention from the whole swimsuit affair, "and as all my actions reflect primarily upon Noct and the royal family, I attempt to maintain a modicum of decorum. I don't believe it's such a sin to project a sense of formality."

Aranea planted one hand on her hip and smirked.

"You're turning red, Four-Eyes—and that's not what I asked. Come on, do you even _own_ a swimsuit?"

"Of course I do," Ignis retaliated, hoping that her words were a joke and he wasn't _really_ going crimson, "it would be ludicrous to assume otherwise."

It wasn't a lie—he really did own one, it just wasn't exactly what Aranea was envisioning (or _seemed_ to be envisioning—one could never quite tell with the Dragoon). He didn't like to be nearly as… exposed as Gladio was almost every day of his adult life, and as such, he preferred to wear a shirt while swimming, thank you very much. He would have been all the happier if he could wear a pair of long pants as well, but the only way _that_ could be achieved was if he wore a wet suit, and thatwould garner almost as much attention than it would if he'd elected to wear nothing at all, which was something he liked to avoid when he could.

Attention, that is. He could hardly go his whole life in the same outfit, as convenient as that might have been.

"Great!" Prompto chimed into the following silence, responding to Ignis' earlier statement, "does that mean we can go, then?"

 _By the Six, they were determined! Ah, well, if that was the way they were going to be…_

"Oh, alright," the adviser conceded, his words followed almost immediately by joyous cheers, like he was an exasperated parent who just told his children that they could have a sleepover.

Honestly, on many days, that comparison wasn't far off the mark.

"Sweet," Aranea purred, "I'll just pop in at my place to pick up my stuff and I'll meet you all there."

She turned for the door, looking backwards over her shoulder and wiggling her fingers in a departing wave.

"Can't wait to see you guys and your summer bodies!" she called as she turned the knob and slipped out into the corridor beyond.

The door clicked shut behind her, and as Gladio lumbered off to find Stella's beach wear, Prompto turned to Ignis inquiringly.

"So…" he drawled, " _do_ you have a swimsuit?"

The chamberlain only sighed.

…

Ignis had never liked swimming. He knew, of course, that it was a highly beneficial skill and helped one maintain their health to a moderate degree, so he _had_ learned how, he just… disliked it. That wasn't to say he was a bad swimmer by any stretch of the imagination. It was imperative as Noct's (and now Lunafreya's _and_ Stella's) pseudo-bodyguard that he had an advanced knowledge in any activity that could help save any of his charges' lives if the situation arose, but that wasn't to say he enjoyed the sport in the slightest.

For one thing, there was the obvious issue of attire, a matter which he _hoped_ he had made clear to his rather meddlesome friends. The second problem was all the people. Ignis was fond of the Lucian populace, of course, and he was very adept at communicating with them, but he had never been one for large crowds _or_ the inordinate amount of noise they made when they gathered at pools, or lakes, or wherever the might be. And of course, the main quarrel he had with water in general was the way it prevented him from wearing his spectacles every time he was _in it._ He'd never been one for ambiguity, so seeing the world through blurred vision when he tried to swim was an irksome nuisance.

Ah, yes. And it was bloody hot as well. He could only hope Stella didn't get a sunburn—that would just be the icing on the proverbial cake.

It was no use reflecting on all that now, though, not when he was pulling into the dirt parking lot overlooking the lake.

The ride here had been mostly quiet, with only he and Stella in the car. The others had thought it would be a good idea to invite the girls, Cindy and Iris, along for the trip, so Prompto had taken his own vehicle with his wife, and Gladio was, much to Ignis' chagrin and concern, riding double with his sister on his motorcycle. The Amicitias had yet to arrive, but the two Argentums had been ahead of Ignis for the whole drive, so they had already parked and unloaded their beach effects by the time the chamberlain stepped out of his car with Stella in his arms.

"Woohoo! We made it!" Prompto exclaimed exuberantly, running to the railing that wound around the parking lot overlooking the sparkling, green-gray waters. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the humid air, a look of immense satisfaction on his face.

"Ah, it feels so amazing out here!"

That was Prompto's opinion. He'd always sought out warmth like a moth to a candle, and he enjoyed summer immensely because of that.

Ignis personally preferred autumn, but he couldn't help but smile at the blond's unrestrained bliss—his love of the heat was just another marked difference between him and the rest of the MTs, who were grown and trained in the frosty, ice-bound lands of Niflheim. The adviser supposed, for that singular reason, that summer wasn't _all_ bad.

… Except when one had to swim. Not even Prompto's enthusiasm could change Ignis' stance on _that._

Too little, too late, though. He'd already agreed, and they were here now, so he may as well endure it for a few measly hours while the others had their fun. If worst came to worst, he could always excuse himself to play lifeguard—surely no one would dispute him being _out_ of the water if he was doing it to keep them all safe? Or… _allegedly_ keep them all safe. They needn't know the difference, though.

Stella's tentative tap on his cheek brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked at the princess questioningly.

"Something you need, Highness?" he asked.

The baby, smiling at her success in capturing Ignis' attention, pointed to the lake with a soft, "eh?"

"That's the lake," he informed her, walking closer to the railing and standing beside Prompto to let her survey the water more clearly. Her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped dramatically as she drank in the sight before her and whispered, "ooh" quietly, her gaze never leaving the lake.

"You like that, do you?" Ignis surmised, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile at her enraptured expression.

Stella responded with an excited laugh, kicking her chubby legs against the adviser's stomach in anticipation, bouncing up and down in his arms until Ignis feared he might drop her due to her exuberance.

"Well, she looks happier n' a chocobo on a gysahl farm!" a deeply accented voice commented from behind him, and Ignis turned to greet its owner.

"A pleasure to see you again, Cindy," he said, smiling amicably at the mechanic, "all well with you, I hope?"

Cindy shrugged with one shoulder and grinned back tiredly.

"Just as well as a body could be when she's 'bout twenty pounds heavier than she's used to and can't do nothin' but sit 'round the house all day."

Ignis nodded in understanding. Cindy was a workaholic to her very core, so he imagined being confined to her chambers was not treating her well. It was good that she could get out today, even if she most likely wouldn't be swimming.

"Well, just one more month an' then it's back to fixin' cars again!" she said cheerily, slapping Ignis' back lightly.

The chamberlain tried for another smile, but it was a tad halfhearted. She had no idea. In another month, fixing cars would probably be the last thing on her mind. He knew from experience that having a baby around took up every available minute of one's time. Poor Cindy. He hoped she wouldn't be driven _completely_ mad by her child.

"What 'bout you, then?" she asked, "Stella treatin' y'all alright?"

She leaned closer to bop the baby's nose, earning a happy squeal in response.

"Well…" Ignis began, almost prepared to sugar-coat his trials with Noct's troublesome daughter, but then thinking better of it. He wasn't about to lie to Prompto's wife—that would be entirely discourteous to the woman—but neither did he want to delve too deeply into his own ineptitude, so finally he decided on a rather cryptic, "we're all still alive."

Cindy leaned back from Stella with a snort of amusement, but thankfully didn't pursue the matter.

"I'm sure His Highness is right grateful to y'all for yer help, anyhow," she commented politely before she caught sight of something over Ignis' shoulder and exclaimed, "and there's your friend!"

The chamberlain turned just in time to see Gladio pull up beside his car on his _extremely hazardous_ motorcycle, Iris clinging onto her brother from behind.

Ignis had tried to dissuade the two of them from doing that, especially on the crowded Insomnia highways, but they refused to listen to reason. At least they both wore helmets, though. The Amicitias were often reckless, but they weren't stupid.

Iris slid off the bike as soon as it stopped, pulling the helmet off to reveal her broad smile.

She'd certainly grown in the last few years, Ignis thought. She was taller now, and her face held almost none of the adolescent roundness that they'd all grown used to. Her hair was the same length as always, but it was spikier now, and if Ignis wasn't mistaken, she'd added a light tinge of color to the tips.

"Hey, guys!" she greeted, hanging her helmet from the handlebars of the bike, "thanks for inviting me out here. It's been, like, ages since I've gone swimming!"

"No prob!" Prompto replied, pushing away from the railing to face the newcomers, "the more the merrier, right?"

"Indeed," Ignis agreed mildly, shifting his arms under the young princess as her weight became increasingly uncomfortable.

"So…" Iris started, looking around the group, "where's Ari?"

"Ari?" Ignis repeated questioningly, though he already had a fair idea of who the young Amicitia was referring to—the real quandary here being how she managed to get away with referring to Aranea as "Ari."

"Didn't you guys say she was coming?" the girl asked, sounding disappointed at the thought of the Dragoon not showing up.

"I believe she's on her way now," Ignis assured her, "shall we stake our claim on the dock while we wait?"

Everyone vehemently agreed, and soon they were all trudging down to the lake edge, bags and coolers in hand. The lake was open to the public, and was a popular swimming spot in the summer, so space tended to fill up quickly—especially on the slim docks that jutted outward over the water which were perfect for diving, fishing, sunbathing, or just sitting on to dangle one's feet over the edge.

To the group's collective delight (except for Gladio, who said that forgoing the natural sand by the water was for sissies) they found a large open area around an unused dock, and immediately set up before it could be taken.

Ignis spent as long as he possibly could organizing their gear, but soon even he had to face the inevitable: he had to get changed sometime.

Unlike Gladio and Prompto, the adviser had worn his usual attire on the trip here, electing to use the small changing rooms about the lake once he arrived. He would have preferred not to bring his swimsuit at all, but that would have aroused unwanted suspicion from his friends, so it had, unfortunately, come along with him in his bag of belongings.

He stood a bit clumsily, the motion hampered by the added weight of Stella, who was currently engaged in the irksome task of trying to pull his Crownsguard necklace off. She'd discovered the trinket the day before, and since then she'd taken a stab at stealing it forcibly from him at every available opportunity.

Absently, he pulled the pendant away from her groping fingers, and turned to Prompto, who had long since shucked off his own outer wear and was now practically _drowning_ himself in sunscreen.

For someone who loved the sun so much, he certainly was pale.

Ignis waited patiently until the blond was finished coating himself in a second skin of lotion before he coughed lightly to grab his attention.

"What's up, Iggy?" the gunner questioned, facing him directly.

"Would you mind watching Stella for a moment?" the adviser asked, trying not to let his growing sense of embarrassment show, "I'll only be a minute."

"Sure thing!" Prompto responded graciously, taking the baby from Ignis as the chamberlain nodded his thanks. Steeling his resolve, he then picked up his small bundle of beach wear and headed to the changing room, feeling for all the world like a criminal on his way to the chopping block.

The little building was, thankfully, empty, and Ignis didn't wait around. He dressed as quickly as he could, and took a deep breath, willing his composure to return before he exited, subtly smoothing out the wrinkles in his swim shirt as he moved back to the dock where the rest of the party waited.

And was promptly greeted by a _very_ loud wolf whistle.

Ignis looked up sharply, and all his faked nonchalance flew out the window as he saw Aranea standing on the beach before him, already dressed in a… rather flattering swimsuit of her own, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

The woman smiled at him and called across the remaining distance between them, "those are some sexy elbows you got there, Specs!"

 _Six, had she no sense of shame? If anyone else had heard that…_

Ignis shuddered at the thought, and he was quick to cover the intervening ground so that she wouldn't _yell_ anymore cringe-worthy comments to him at the top of her lungs.

"Was that entirely necessary?" he asked peevishly when he stood within a reasonable talking distance of the Dragoon, crossing his arms self-consciously and trying to ignore the sudden, overwhelming urge to cover his own elbows.

Aranea snorted, bumping his shoulder amicably in amusement.

"Oh, come on, Four-Eyes," she said, "be a good sport. You look fine, really."

Ignis _humphed_ and replied archly, "even so, I believe it would behoove us both if you kept further comments to a minimum."

The woman shrugged obligingly.

"Whatever you say, hot stuff," she said, ignoring Ignis' stern glare. "C'mon, let's get in the water before we burn to death."

She walked off without waiting for his response, and the adviser had no choice but to follow as she lead him down the dock.

All the others—save Cindy, who was sitting at the end of the pier with her feet in the water—were already swimming or floating around in the gray-green waves, laughing and splashing. In a way that had become instinctive over the past few days, Ignis' eyes immediately sought out Stella, and he was pleased to see that she was just where he'd left her: with Prompto, who was pulling her through the water while making loud motor-boat noises as she shrieked with breathless delight and slapped the ripples with her chubby hand.

Assured that the baby was still safe and keeping out of trouble, Ignis looked beyond her and Prompto to the last members of the party, who were farther out from the dock. The chamberlain shook his head as he watched Iris step into her brother's waiting hands before launching off as he lifted her high in the air. She was obviously trying to perform a flip, but the pair apparently hadn't gotten their timing or distance right because the junior Amicitia just ended up back-flopping with an audible _slap_ on the surface of the lake. She came up spluttering a moment later, but Gladio didn't even try to help her—Ignis could hear him laughing from the shore.

He tried not to feel satisfied when Iris rewarded him with a face-full of water.

It wasn't until he heard Cindy snort with laughter that the adviser realized he _should_ have been paying attention to Aranea—for just as he turned to see what had amused the mechanic so, he felt a pair of hands on his back, and he was shoved roughly forward.

He wasn't sure what he said in that solitary second between the dock and the lake, but he was fairly certain that it was something like, "my spectacles!" then there was a massive splash, and a shock of cold surrounded him as he sank into the water.

Ignis hadn't planned on swimming, but the situation had changed. Aranea had just started a war, and if it was a fight she wanted, she was going to get one.

 _She'll regret drawing first blood from me,_ the chamberlain thought as he kicked forward, moving silently toward the dock.

Briefly, he entertained the idea of simply popping up to startle the Dragoon or maybe even pull her in unexpectedly, but he shook off the notion almost immediately. That was too predictable. Aranea was _expecting_ him to come back up any second now, so instead, he determined to do the opposite: he swam farther down.

He waited until he was beneath the dock before he surfaced, the pocket of air under the sodden structure providing just enough room for his head as he gulped down mouthfuls of admittedly moist oxygen as quietly as he could.

By a stoke of good fortune, he had risen just under the spot where Cindy and Aranea were still waiting for him to come back up, and as the porous wood over his head failed to negate sound, he had a perfect account of their increasingly agitated conversation.

 _Perfect_.

"How long's he gonna hold his breath for?" the mechanic asked with a twinge of concern, hardly bothering to hide it behind an air of nonchalance.

"Aw, don't worry about it," Aranea assured her, her voice oozing boredom and ease, "he's just trying to scare us. Just wait, he'll be up in a minute."

She was on to him, but Ignis was counting on the fact that she'd never been to this particular lake before, so she couldn't know that the docks here had these convenient air pockets.

 _Shouldn't be much longer,_ the chamberlain surmised with a dark, uncharacteristic twist of a smile. _She'll begin to worry after the two-minute mark._

That may have been stretching it a bit, even for Ignis. The adviser only knew of a select number of Olympians who could hold there breath for two minutes straight. If Aranea truly thought that he could match their stamina, then he would consider himself complimented.

He waited, counting silently in his head. He hit the one-hundred-twenty second mark, and was surprised when at that precise moment, the Dragoon blurted out, "alright, so this is a _little_ weird."

 _Had she been counting as well?_

It was a nice sentiment, but not enough to sway Ignis from his course. He waited another full minute before Aranea finally exclaimed, "okay, I'm going in! You'd better not be dead, Specs."

The latter sentence was said so quietly that Ignis almost missed it under the slapping of the erratic waves that sloshed around his ears, and the next thing he heard was a splash as the woman broke the surface of the lake.

The chamberlain hoped that the murkiness of the water would sufficiently hide the rest of his body from her sight.

Another sixty seconds passed without incident before Ignis heard Aranea gasp loudly as she surfaced, then her panicked breaths and more splashes as she moved around, probably looking for him.

He tried to fight back a shot of guilt as he realized just how worried she was. The Dragoon hardly ever showed concern no matter what situation she was in, and for her to do so now was… almost flattering.

Still, he'd come this far, and he wasn't about to give up the ploy now. Even Royal Advisers were entitled to a slice of petty revenge every once in a while.

His brief musings were interrupted by a knock on the wood above his head. He looked up reflexively, but of course, he could see nothing. Another moment passed, then a second knock, identical to the first.

It wasn't random, Ignis concluded quickly, it was a signal of some kind. Was someone trying to communicate with him?

He decided to listen more carefully now, and… yes, there it was. Aranea had just emerged for breath again, and just as she did, the knock came. Ignis smiled. So, he had an ally telling him when the Dragoon was vulnerable, and he was almost positive that person was Cindy.

It was surprising, admittedly—Ignis hadn't pegged the mechanic for the prankster type, but then again, she _was_ married to Prompto. He must have rubbed off on her.

 _Lovely._ Another problem to worry about.

Later, though. For now, he was grateful for her assistance. When her next knock came, Ignis slid back out from under the dock, pressing one hand to his glasses to keep them from slipping off in the water, before he caught sight of his target through the blur and murk of the lake.

Her back was to him. The chamberlain couldn't have asked for a better setup.

He eased up behind her, rising just enough so that his top lip brushed the surface of the water as he floated a mere foot from her.

Aranea was looking wildly about, her wet hair whipping around and sticking to her face as she moved. She appeared rather desperate, and in what was obviously a final resort, she called anxiously, "Ignis!" just as his ears rose out of the water to hear.

That almost— _almost—_ gave him pause. The Dragoon hardly ever used anyone's real name in reference to them. It was her trademark to fashion odd nicknames for all her acquaintances, and as such, Ignis had only ever heard her call him "Specs," "Four-Eyes," or once, "Jawline."

Now, though, she had used his true name. Ignis. She'd never called him that before, not once.

She must have been terribly worried about him to resort to such drastic measures.

The chamberlain decided not to prolong her suffering any longer, and he rose smoothly to his full height behind her and asked casually, "yes?"

Aranea jumped in surprise, a tiny, school-girl yelp leaving her mouth as she whirled around to face him. For half a second, she looked shocked, as if he'd just come back from the dead, but then the moment ended, and before he knew it, Ignis was slapped by a barrage of water as she sent a torrent of it into his face.

"What the hell, Specs!?" she barked, "I thought you drowned! What in the name of the Astrals were you doing?"

Ignis held his composed—though wet—expression as he replied smoothly, "I was negotiating a system of international trade with the authorities of Atlantis. Why? Was I missed?"

Aranea sighed irritably, brushing her sodden locks away from her face with her fingers.

"Really charming, Four-Eyes. It's a wonder you're still single."

The adviser let the laugh bubbling in his stomach to escape him—surprising himself with how free and genuine it sounded as he supplied the apology he knew he owned her.

"I do apologize for causing you undue concern, Aranea. Shall we consider ourselves even and call it a truce?"

The Dragoon scowled, scrutinizing him carefully before the expression fell to reveal her usual smirk as she nodded.

"Guess I deserved that one," she admitted, shaking his hand as if they had just completed some kind of very wet business transaction before she released it in favor of poking his chest with one finger, accenting each word as she added, "but don't ever. Do. That. Again."

The chamberlain raised one eyebrow cryptically.

"I am not at liberty to make that promise," he replied with a secretive smile.

Ah. What a sweet thing revenge was.

 **Well, I didn't want to split up** _ **another**_ **day into two parts, but this one got kinda long (almost 5000 words, wow!), and you guys waited long enough. As I said before, though, college has started, so updates might be a tad slow. On a better note, however, I have tentatively decided to use the "Reclaim Your Throne" trailer for this game as the basis for my visual rhetoric essay that's due in two weeks. Hopefully, all we go well, but we shall see. If anyone's interested, I can keep you posted on how that turns out.** **Ha! Of course I will. I love telling you guys all about my life!**


	10. Day 5-Part 2: The Mighty Water Chocobos

**Ahem.**

 **Hi, guys. It's been almost a full year since my last update…**

 **I have no excuse. College turned my life upside down and inside out, and I've barely had time to breathe. And then the writer in me got broked, and well… Yeah. That's all I've got to say for myself. However, with the release of Episode Ardyn (and a SUPER awesome review from QuestRunner), I have become inspired to write more about this gang of losers! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Oh yeah! As promised: My visual rhetoric essay went really well! Yay…**

…

 _Day 5—Part 2._

"Don't think that you're getting out of a punishment just because you're holding the kid now, Four Eyes," Aranea warned, standing in rather threatening proximity to Ignis in the waist-high water, arms crossed and eyes smoldering with unexacted revenge.

"Honestly, using a baby as a meat-shield is low, especially for the king's royal…" She paused, putting a finger to her lips in mock-thought.

"What are you again? Pretty Boy's maid or something?"

"I am Noct's advisor, first and foremost," Ignis answered, not deigning to look at the Dragoon as he preoccupied himself with making sure the squirming child in his arms didn't put any lake water in her mouth or put _herself_ into the _lake water._ Stella was horribly slippery, and Ignis made a mental note that "baby plus sunscreen equaled wet soap bar."

"Additionally," the chamberlain said, continuing to address Aranea, "I hardly think anyone, myself least of all, would be so deplorable as to use a six month old as a buffer between themselves and danger."

"Keep telling yourself that, freakin' sadist," the woman muttered darkly.

Ignis sighed and looked up from the princess long enough to reply, "I believe I already apologized for my behavior earlier, Aranea, and even had I not, need I remind you that I only did such a thing to you in the first place to… return the favor, as it were. If you are angry, then I suggest you examine your own actions first and realize that if you hadn't contrived to push me into the water, then I wouldn't have had the need to frighten you as I did."

Aranea bristled, and she threw her arms down toward her sides in a rather childish gesture of irritation, made all the more comical by the fact that her limbs disappeared under the water at the elbow, so the expression lost most of its potency.

"There's a big difference between a silly prank and making me believe you'd _died_ for about five minutes!" she opposed.

"And as I said," Ignis emphasized in a smooth rejoinder, "I already apologized. I realize that it was immature of me to respond in such a manner, and I am sorry that I caused you undue worry."

Aranea huffed, little flecks of lake water flying off her lips as she exhaled, but she said nothing further, which from the Dragoon was as clear an indication of her forgiveness as Ignis was going to get.

They lapsed into silence, the awkward kind that only stretches out after a particularly clumsy apology. Mercifully, Stella, who had apparently gotten bored of trying to ingest almost-certainly contaminated water, spared them both from the tension by reaching up quite suddenly—faster than Ignis could react—and snatched the glasses from the retainer's face. Painfully. With a snap of her surprisingly agile baby wrist, the spectacles came free, the end of the earpiece section of the frame whipping inward as she tugged, coming around just in time to shove harshly into Ignis' eye, surprising and wounding him enough to nearly make him lose his grip on the already-slippery body of Noctis' only child. He caught her as she began to slide rapidly toward the lake, his injured eye squinted shut as it started to water profusely. He straightened, and Stella looked up at him a moment, shock at her near-fall appearing on her chubby face before she burst out in happy cackles.

Then she threw Ignis' glasses into the water with a happy "bah!" and clapped her hands joyously like she'd just won the lottery.

Chagrined but hardly surprised at this point in his babysitting tenure, Ignis stared down at the princess out of his one good eye while Stella laughed at his sinking glasses and imitated sad, bubbling sounds as they dipped beneath the surface.

A heartbeat of silence followed before Ignis, blinking away tears from his skewered eye while his spectacles floated to their liquid grave under the gray-green water, said evenly, "I do hope you're pleased with yourself, Highness."

Stella smiled angelically, dimpling her cheeks and regarding Ignis in a way that said _yes_ , she most certainly was pleased with herself.

Aranea laughed, the moment of awkwardness forgotten as she courteously dived beneath the shallow spot of water and retrieved the glasses, flicking the drops off of them as best she could before leaning forward to slide them back onto the chamberlain's face.

"That better?" she asked with a grin.

"The view is a bit mistier than I should like," Ignis replied, "but I'll manage. Thank you, Aranea."

"Serves you right, though," she added, laughing a bit at his tightly-closed eye and disgruntled expression behind his dripping spectacles.

"As flattering as it is to be a source of such great amusement to you both," Ignis replied with a coolness that he didn't feel, "I believe that this discussion should end here, if you please."

As if to reinforce his statement, Prompto approached at that moment, severing the conversation as he waded comically fast through the waist-high water, waving and calling out to Ignis with his signature, sunny smile.

"Yo, Iggy!" he hollered, "come over here a sec! I need you!"

Aranea raised an eyebrow and looked to the retainer, holding out her arms for Stella.

"Well, better give me the trouble-maker; it looks like one of your kids needs you."

Ignis matched her caustic expression with a raised eyebrow of his own, but otherwise ignored the mother-hen joke and wordlessly handed the slippery princess off to the Dragoon before turning to Prompto, who had slogged his way over to the trio during the interaction.

"What is is, Prompto?" Ignis asked, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest self-consciously now that Stella's weight was gone. Astrals, it felt so _wrong_ to be free of her squirming body, almost like he hadn't anything on. When had he gotten so used to her presence?

He shook the thought off as Prompto came to a stop before him, wondering what it was the younger man could possibly want—

"I need you to be my butt," the blond stated sternly.

 _Wait. What?_

"Pardon me? Your… _what?_ " Ignis had to ask, completely caught off-guard by the bold and completely unexpected— _unprecedented—_ request. Beside him, Aranea snorted indelicately, covering her face with her free hand.

"Well, you weigh more than me, so…" Prompto trailed off with a shrug, but the explanation did _nothing_ to help Ignis fathom the situation any better.

Aranea only snorted again, this one sounding almost painful to restrain.

"Prompto, I'm afraid I have no idea what you are implying," Ignis said.

Prompto shook his head, as if in denial of Ignis' obliviousness, and grabbed the chamberlain's shoulders to face him squarely.

"Iggy. I know this is hard, but that's just the way things go. Gladio's taken, so you _have_ to be the butt. Please? For me?"

Ignis pushed the blond's hands off his shoulders, pointedly ignoring the increasingly loud chuckles from Aranea as he cast an irritated look on his younger friend. Six bless the boy, but Prompto could be a _mind-numbing_ number of steps ahead sometimes. It wasn't like the gunner was stupid or insane by any stretch of the imagination, but was often so far advanced in his thoughts that Ignis and the others had to bring him back constantly and remind him that _no one_ could possibly keep up with his ideas.

"I can't be a butt-less Chocobo, Iggy. I _need_ you!" Prompto continued pleadingly, his large blue eyes fixing the advisor with a puppy-dog look that would have been compelling had Ignis had any inkling of an idea what this whole matter was about.

"Iris is a head already, and I can't compete with her when Gladio's _her_ butt, so if you could just—"

Prompto cut off abruptly, jerking his head back in surprise as Ignis snapped his fingers sharply under the blond's nose, silencing his rambling for a crucial second so he could interject.

"Prompto!" he cut in smoothly, his voice calm, but sharp as a knife as he attempted to bring his flighty friend back down to earth.

"You'll have to slow down, I'm afraid. What exactly are the three of you doing over there, and what do you need me for?"

Prompto opened his mouth, closed it, then asked sheepishly as he turned a faint shade of red, "I… I did it again, didn't I?"

 _Astrals_ _, he's become self-aware!_ Ignis realized with some surprise, but he made sure none of it showed on his face as he nodded empathetically.

The blond offered an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, Iggy," he said, and the chamberlain waved the apology away. As long as Prompto realized his oversight, it was enough.

"It's not a problem," he assured the younger man, "but I wouldn't mind an explanation."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. We were just going to have a Chocobo Fight, actually, but we need another person."

 _Ah. Splendid._ _Was_ that _all?_

Ignis couldn't help the look of disapproval that came over his face at the mention of the rambunctious game. He wouldn't say he had a particular problem with that particular popular lake activity, just that he had always thought it too dangerous to be much fun. He'd played before, of course, but he was always so concerned with the potential for broken necks, bruises, or drowning that he could hardly focus on the competition aspect. Gladio, and by extension Iris, enjoyed Chocobo fighting immensely, but… well, they were _Amicitias._ Games like that were practically written into their genetic coding.

"And you didn't think to ask Aranea instead?" Ignis questioned, looking for a graceful way out of the situation. "I believe we both know that she would be a much greater asset to you in this situation than I."

Prompto shrugged, seeming a bit uncomfortable with the suggestion.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, "but I suck at being on the bottom, and… well…"

He leaned in with a swift glance at the Dragoon, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring their exchange as she entertained Stella by pretending to sneeze into the water, an act that seemed to amuse the princess immensely.

"She'd have to _on my shoulders,_ Iggy," Prompto whispered to the advisor. "And like, _hello?_ I'm married! That would be majorly weird for _both of us._ "

Ah. That… That was a valid point.

"I suppose I see how that might be a problem," Ignis conceded, though he hated where that admission put him.

"And I also suppose that would mean I'm the only available participant for your game?"

Prompto grinned, slapping him on the back good-naturedly.

"Come on, Specs! Don't be so gloomy! It'll be fun!"

Astrals preserve him, how was he supposed to turn down a face like that? Prompto was just so bloody _excited,_ it would have been nearly inhumane to reject the offer. With a heavy sigh, Ignis slid his glasses off his face and handed them to Aranea, beseeching her to take care of them and for the love of all the gods, _not_ to let Stella have them. Then, Prompto was dragging him into the deeper water away from the docks, where Iris and Gladio waited, the young woman stacked on top of her brother's shoulders, creating a truly imposing tower of pure Amicitia.

"Alright!" Gladio rumbled when they arrived, his amber eyes alight with a very _dangerous_ fire, "let's get the slaughter started!"

Iris cheered in agreement, Prompto fist-pumped, but Ignis could only wonder at how hard it would be to rescue someone with a broken spine from drowning in the lake.

…

It took a few wet, painful moments for Ignis to situate Prompto properly on his shoulders so that he wasn't unbalanced. Ignis grimaced as he straightened up, dripping, from the water, and Prompto's weight settled fully on his shoulders. Though he certainly weighed less than the advisor, the blond's 135 pounds didn't exactly sit comfortably on Ignis, and was only worsened by the fact that Prompto was incredibly _bony._ Ignis found it hard to believe that Prompto had ever been overweight, despite the blond's assurances that he had been "a real meat-ball" in his middle school days.

Before him, Gladio and Iris waited patiently, balanced easily like they were a single unit. Ignis would never admit it, but the duo was truly imposing, standing like a rock amid the shallow waves and rising above the advisor and Prompto with grim but burning expressions. Ignis didn't think he'd _ever_ felt those six inches that separated him and Gladio more than he did in that moment. Frightening, admittedly, but he'd committed to this now. He'd be damned if he let the powerful siblings beat him now.

"Okay!" Prompto chirped from somewhere above him, shifting a final time on Ignis' shoulders to get comfortable, "we're good to go! Prepare to get crushed!"

Ignis could only wish to share his friend's levels of optimism. He did certainly plan on winning, but he wasn't naive enough to think for even a moment that the Amicitias' defeat would be "crushing."

The advisor's thoughts were supported whole-heartedly by Iris, who just grinned at Prompto from Gladio's shoulders and cracked her knuckles threateningly.

"Bring it on, Choco-Butt!" she laughed.

"Yeah," Gladio agreed, his eyes fixed on Ignis in a challenge. "You both better give it your all! No holding back!"

"It insults me that you would think I'd do otherwise," Ignis replied calmly, trying to keep the pain out of his voice as Prompto's bony backside dug into his trapezius. Gods, he was going to come out of this with some heavy bruising, wasn't he? Not to mention the havoc Prompto's weight was sure to wreck on his spine…

"Go!" Gladio yelled suddenly, and Ignis had to abandon all thoughts of health concerns as the Shield rushed in—alarmingly fast for someone wading though water with a woman on his shoulders—and _slammed_ into he and Prompto with the force of a charging Garula.

Ignis grunted in surprise, straining suddenly as Gladio stepped in, forcing the advisor backward with his sheer weight. Ignis' feet slid back on the silt and lake slime that had settled beneath the water, and he quickly stepped back to keep his balance. Above him, Prompto yelped as Iris tried to force him off Ignis' shoulders, and by the way the blond suddenly wobbled on top of him, Ignis could only assume that her attempts were quickly becoming successfully.

A tactical retreat was in order.

Ignis backed away, letting the natural buoyancy of the water carry most of his weight as he moved away from the imposing form of the mutant, two-headed Amicitia tank in front of him. Prompto gave a little yelp at the action, his body lurching forward with the abruptness of the advisor's retreat, forcing him to throw his arms around Ignis' head lest he fell. To his credit, the blond was careful to keep his arms out of Ignis' eyes, so the chamberlain didn't utter a word of protest as he waited for the younger man to regain his balance and move his hands.

"Ramuh's sparking _beard!"_ Prompto exclaimed with a pant when he had settled back on his perch. "What are those two made of!?"

"Muscle," Gladio replied over the intervening space.

"And a steady diet of six inch steak slabs," Iris finished, flicking her wet hair out of her eyes.

Ignis raised a skeptical eyebrow at them both, hardly cowed by their eating and exercise habits. The Amicitias were strong, yes, but they relied much too heavily on that fact. That first initial rush had told Ignis much about their attack style—not that he'd needed it. He knew Gladio well enough to be familiar with all the Shield's battle tactics, and he had guessed from the start that the large man would begin the competition with an overwhelming display of sheer brutality. That was his way: subdue the enemy as quickly as possible; tire them out before the fight even really began. But that strategy left a hole in the Amicitias' defenses. They were like a pair of charging Dualhorns—powerful, but straightforward, letting momentum drive their opponents to their knees.

Ignis could exploit that.

He hardly thought about how ridiculous it was to be strategizing so thoroughly in a game of Chocobo Fight—this was _war,_ after all—and with the beginnings of an idea stirring in his mind, he tilted his head to look up at Prompto out of the corner of his eye.

"Prompto," he said in a whisper, confident that Gladio and Iris were too far away to hear him, "I believe I have a plan to stop them."

"Well, spill it!" the gunner replied in a low tone. "Because as much as it hurts to admit, I don't think I can handle Iris head-on. Her arms are like iron!"

"Precisely," Ignis agreed. "Which is why we need to fight them the same way we used to take down Iron Giants."

"Screaming 'oh gods, no' while spamming a gun trigger?" Prompto guessed, to which Ignis shook his head.

"Evasion," he corrected, eyeing the Amicitias cautiously as they began to stalk in. They were obviously impatient to get on with the fight and prevent the two of them from strategizing. Time was up.

"Just follow my lead, and when I give the signal, use the water to blind Iris. Got it?"

Ignis saw the blond nod out of his periphery, then turned back to their opponents just in time to watch them begin another of their terrifying charges.

 _Here it comes._

"Brace," Ignis ordered his young friend, "but keep a firm hold on me."

Prompto brought his arms up like he intended to catch the approaching Iris, but Ignis felt his legs lock uncomfortably tight around his torso. He hadn't meant _that_ tight, but he could hardly complain as Gladio came in, almost on top of them…

 _Now!_

As the Shield came in, Ignis fell out of his braced position, letting his muscles relax, and sidestepped the big man cleanly, just enough so that Gladio stumbled past on his right. In the same moment, the advisor hooked Gladio's leg with his foot, unbalancing him and, in turn, Iris.

"Prompto!" he yelled, giving the signal to his blond friend, who wasted no time in scooping up a large, cupped handful of murky lake water, spattering it directly in Iris' face as she wobbled by on her brother's shoulders.

The young woman coughed and spluttered, bringing her hands up to wipe her eyes in the same second that Ignis slammedhis body harshly into Gladio's side, furthering the blow to his balance. Iris made an incoherent sound of consternation as she began to tip off her perch, and Prompto didn't give her the chance to recover. With a flourishing shove, the gunner pushed her sideways off of Gladio and into the water with a mighty _splash!_

The entire sequence had taken mere seconds, too fast for Gladio, weighed down by the water and his sister, to react. If this had been a real battle, Ignis knew, the Shield wouldn't have been nearly so easy to overcome—he'd watched Gladio in combat too often to deny that. But neither could he deny the satisfied smirk that rose to his face as he watched Iris rise, disgruntled, from the water while Gladio cursed like a Lestallum Hunter in a bar, regaining his balance.

"Woohoo!" Prompto whooped, throwing his arms up and easing his deathly leg-grip on Ignis, "we won! We actually won! You're a genius, Iggy!"

"A very sore genius, perhaps," Ignis corrected, starting to feel the effect of Prompto's weight now that the adrenaline was dying. "I would appreciate a _respite_ now _,_ if it's all the same to you."

"Oh…" Prompto said, his arms lowering slowly, some of his thunder stolen, "sure thing. I'll just… get down then."

"Splendid," Ignis replied, standing still so Prompto could slip off…

Except that he _didn't._

Ignis craned his neck to look back at his _heavy_ friend.

"Perhaps you might expedite your descent, Prompto," he suggested with strained patience. "This isn't entirely comfortable."

"I'm trying, Iggy! I just… how do I do that?"

"You don't know!?" Ignis asked, a bit indignantly. "Couldn't you just lean off backwards?"

" _No._ I'll get. A. _Snoot-full!"_

"A what?" Why was it that the beginning and end of this game was marked by confusing conversations?

"A snoot-full, Igs. You know? Water up my nose? Not cool. I don't know _what's_ been using this water as a waste dump, but I can tell you that I don't want any of it in my sinuses."

Ignis gave vent to a long-suffering sigh, beginning to crouch down so Prompto could get down _without_ a risk to his nose, but Gladio interrupted him, wading up to them with a jovial smile. He certainly seemed to have recovered from his defeat.

That was… rather quick.

"Don't sweat it, Iggy, I'll do it," he said, reaching up like he was about to carry Prompto to safety.

The chamberlain paused, surprised but nonetheless pleased by the offer.

"Thank you, Glad—" he began, but cut off as the Shield abruptly shoved Prompto off into the water with one arm.

"And _now_ we're even," he stated smugly as Prompto popped up from the waves, blowing water out his nose and coughing.

"… I think I may have swallowed a minnow…" the blond croaked, rubbing his throat with a sickened grimace.

Ignis, rolling his aching shoulders in the aftermath of Prompto's weighty presence, had trouble conjuring any compassion for him.

 **Ah, it feels so good to get that chapter done! It's been hanging over my head for over 10 months! It's not nearly as funny as I would have liked, but this sucker just needed to get on out there, so that's that. Done and dusted. Next chapter should be more fun. I have _plans._ And hopefully it won't be so long in coming as this one.**

' **Til next time: Bon voyage, me old crème crackers!**


	11. Day 6: Quiet Moments

**A/N: Welp, I lied. I** _ **had**_ **plans for this chapter, but after some deliberation, I realized that what I had in mind wouldn't work, so you get this instead!** **Be** **fore** **warned: This one is** **a bit** **longer than previous chapters, so settle down, grab yo'self a snack, and enjoy the ride!**

 **Aw… My cat is curled up next to me. The perfect writing atmosphere!**

 _Day 6._

Gladio turned another page in his novel, holding the book above his face as he lay flat on his back on the floor of Ignis' apartment. He would have used the couch, but it wasn't long enough to accommodate for his height.

That, and he didn't want to risk the baby laying on top of him falling hard to the floor should she roll off.

The Shield spared a glance away from his book to watch Stella, but just as it had been for the last half hour, there was no change in the kid's position. She was awake, but only barely, her little eyelids drooping with the weight of sleep as she sucked slowly on her own dimpled fist. Even as Gladio watched, the baby let out a prodigious yawn, showing off her two, half-grown teeth before smacking her lips quietly and settling back down against him.

 _Poor kid,_ the Shield thought, patting Stella absently on the back, _that lake trip yesterday really knocked her flat._

Well… He supposed they'd all been tired after their little outing. Not that he was losing his edge! Only that playing five consecutive rounds of Chocobo Fight—and always being the one on the _bottom_ at that _—_ was, truthfully, exhausting. And for someone of Stella's age, who had never been to the lake before to Gladio's knowledge… No wonder the tyke was so burned out.

"Not so vicious when you're tired, are ya?" the Shield asked with a low chuckle. Noct's little monster had hardly given them any trouble today, and Iggy had mentioned that she'd slept straight through the night, which, in turn, meant that the advisor had too. A welcome change for the disheveled chamberlain.

Stella looked up as Gladio spoke and giggled drowsily, kicking her feet up and down against his stomach. Gods, she was almost a different person when she was tired! Gladio wished they'd thought of going to the lake sooner if it made the kid _this_ easy to handle. He didn't think he'd seen her stay in one spot for so long. Gladio certainly wasn't complaining.

With a last chuckle at the princess' goofy grin, the Shield patted her back again and turned his focus back to his book.

For another half page, there was silence, but then came a soft slap on his chest, and Stella's voice muttering an unintelligible, plaintive, "Muh-muh-muh…"

Gladio lowered his book again, looking slowly to the baby. She was propped upright, beating her hand against him insistently, uttering that single-syllable word over and over, obviously trying to tell him something.

"What?" the Shield asked.

Stella stopped hitting him and let out another sleepy giggle, laying her head back down on him. Gladio shrugged at the disturbance and raised his book again, then…

"Muh! Muh!"

The Shield sighed and pushed a bookmark between the pages of his novel and the laid it aside to turn his full attention to Stella.

"Look," he told her sternly, "you ain't going to get anywhere by hitting me like that. I'm gonna need a bigger clue here, kid."

Stella let out a squeak of happiness, her head laying sideways on his chest, her blissful, wide-open grin trailing a string of drool. She tapped him once more with a quieter "muh," this time without shifting her position.

"I really don't get you, Princess," Gladio admitted fondly.

The girl bolted up as he spoke, pointing to his chest with a drool-coated finger, exclaiming her signature "ooh!" of surprise as she did so.

Gladio raised an eyebrow at her. He had no idea what had the kid so excited all of a sudden. One minute she was halfway to Slumber Town, the next she was gawking at him like he was an exotic animal at the zoo.

Stella laid back down, a huge smile on her face, and she slapped him with her hand. That seemed to be a signal for him to do something, but he couldn't quite figure out what that thing was. When he didn't respond to the gesture, the princess hit him again, once more accompanied by a "muh!"

"What did I tell ya about hitting people?" the Shield asked, his tone hard but without any real conviction behind it.

Stella laughed, then made a bubbly sound with her lips, grinning with her ear to his chest.

And then Gladio understood, and he couldn't hold back the smile that turned up the corner of his lips nor the low snort of disbelieving laughter that issued from his mouth.

"You just like it when I talk, don't ya?" he questioned.

Stella kicked her legs happily with a high-pitched squeal of delight, and Gladio took that as a yes. He would never afterward admit— _especially_ to himself—that Stella's joy at hearing him speak made his heart turn a little. In that moment, she reminded him fondly of Iris when she was a baby, just a drooling mess that would cry insistently until he came around to pick her up and sing to her in his tone-deaf, eight-year-old voice. The Shield grinned at the memory and at the kid laying across him, then ruffled Stella's wispy hair with his hand.

"You idiot!" he chuckled, then picked up his book again.

Only this time, he read it out loud.

…

Stella liked it when the big man talked. The noise made a rumbly sound, and it made her head vibrate in a funny way when she laid down. The only problem was that he kept _stopping._ She wanted him to keep going. She was sleepy, and his voice made her feel warm and safe, almost like her Daddy's. She tapped his chest, the place where the sound vibrated around the most, telling him to go on talking. He did, but not for long enough.

She tapped again. Tapping made him talk. Each time he paused, she had to make him go again. She was sleepy though, and tapping so much made her even more tired. So she told him so. Making sounds always seemed to make tall people do something. Whenever she made sounds, they always responded, and so she told the big man that he had to keep talking because it made her ready to go to sleep. She wanted to sleep, she said, because her eyes felt dry and heavy, but she couldn't do that if he kept going quiet.

Another rumble, more vibrations, and Stella smiled in happiness. There. She'd made him talk again. She put her ear to him, listening to that soothing sound.

This time, he didn't stop.

An impression, something she _felt_ inside, came over Stella as she began to drift off. She didn't have the word for it, but the sensation didn't need one. It was simple. Relaxing.

 _Safe._

Maybe this was why Daddy always kept the big man around…

The rumble continued on, long after Stella had fallen asleep.

…

"It's our problem-free philosophy!" Prompto belted out, swaying back and forth to the catchy tune on the TV, bouncing the princess on his lap, making her squeal with happiness and clap her clumsy hands together.

"Hakuna Matata!"

Had to hand it to him, Prompto thought with a grin, he was _really_ in tune with that pig! He hadn't meant to turn this casual Disney-watching extravaganza into a full-on karaoke sesh, but destiny was sort of funny like that. And yeah, okay, he really liked _Hakuna Matata,_ despite Iggy's many, _many_ assurances that it didn't _actually_ mean "no worries." Who cared? He wasn't about to have his good time ruined by the naysayers! He was going to Hakuna that freakin' Matata his way to greatness!

Stella, bouncing up and down with exuberance as she waited for the next verse to start, seemed to agree with him.

They had to dance-break through the long interlude, but Stella didn't seem to mind him grabbing her arms and waving them back and forth like they were at a rock concert and she was his lighter.

… Which probably would have sounded sorta romantic if he wasn't already married… And wasn't essentially her uncle… And wasn't thirty-one years her senior. Ugh. Creeps to the max.

After a minute, the singing started again, and Prompto joined in.

"It means no worries!" he sang, pointedly loud so that Ignis, only a room away, could hear him. He could _hear_ the answering sigh from the kitchen, but that wasn't about to stop him. It was making Stella happy!

"For the rest of your days!" he finished out the line, ready for the next, but just as he started to belt out about his problem-free philosophy again, the baby in his lap decided to join in. When the line came, she looked straight up, scrunched her blue eyes closed, and sang with all her heart to the ceiling.

The lyrics weren't correct, of course, but her loud "a-bwah-bwah-bwah!" was strangely harmonious with his "Hakuna Matata," so it sort of worked out. Besides, Prompto was always down for a sick remix.

They dueted _hard_ until the end, and Stella shrieked and clapped and bounced like a mad woman after their kickin' finale. Yeah… Nothing Simba did in the rest of this movie really mattered. _Nothing_ was going to top their performance.

"High five, Stell!" he exclaimed, holding up his hand. The baby just grinned, dimples pocking her face, her nubby teeth showing, and grabbed his fingers, bringing them to her mouth.

He… _really_ shouldn't have expected anything different.

He let her suck on his index finger anyway. It wasn't like he'd gone dumpster diving or something, so he figured his hand was safe enough to eat.

Wait. No. That _totally_ wasn't what he meant.

"Let's, uh, keep the cannibalism to a minimum there, stinker," he told Stella, who was working her tiny but sharp teeth on his fingers.

Did he say teeth? Maybe _fangs_ was a more accurate term. Would they leave dents? He was pretty sure they were going to leave dents. He was going to have Swiss Cheese hands forever now. Which was _great._ He'd always wanted those.

Suddenly, Stella pulled his hand out of her mouth, her face curious, eyes wide on something. Prompto followed her gaze, diverting his attention away from his _very_ slobbery fingers, to his wrist…

 _Of course._

His barcode.

He still kept it covered sometimes, when he went out. He'd long since stopped wearing the wristband when he was with his friends, and he certainly didn't feel ashamed of it any longer, but there were still so many people with broken families, sundered apart by Niflheim. His friends knew. His family knew. But the rest of the world?

He didn't think they were ready for that. Not just yet.

Neither was he, really. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready to look down at that tattoo and _smile._

Not just yet.

Stella, naturally, knew nothing of the complicated history of the barcode or the complicated feelings that it instilled in Prompto. She cooed excitedly over it with happy "oohs!" and stroked the lines with one tiny finger.

"You, uh… Think it's cool, huh?" he asked, mustering up a wane smile at the princess.

His only response was a giggle as Stella started poking the tattoo. Then rubbed the tattoo furiously. Then tried to _eat_ the tattoo.

Prompto chuckled.

"Glad one of us likes it," he said.

Stella took her mouth off of it, then rubbed it again with a tiny frown. She looked up at him with an inquiring "eh?" as she slapped the mark lightly.

Prompto shook his head.

"No," he said with a hint of melancholy, "it doesn't come off."

Alright, so maybe he wasn't _completely_ over being marked as a human experiment. That kind of thing was sorta hard to brush off, even after all these years.

Stella stuck out her lower lip and dropped his hand, then twisted around to grab his other one, turning it over and examining it from all angles, obviously looking for another barcode.

"Ba-doo?" she said when she didn't find anything. Her intonation almost sounded like a question, so Prompto did his best to answer.

"There's just the one," he informed her, holding both wrists out side to side so she could see the difference.

Stella looked back and forth between them, her expression comically befuddled. Prompto had to laugh.

"I know, it's confusing."

At the sound of his laughter, Stella's grin returned, then, barcode seemingly forgotten, she turned back to the TV where _Can You Feel the Love Tonight_ had just begun to play. Bouncing with excitement, she tapped his arm eagerly, pointing to the screen and then to him, making nonsense sounds with her mouth.

Prompto grinned.

Just like that, Stella had brushed aside the matter of his tattoo like it was nothing. Just like that, she was back to smiling at him and begging him to spend time with her. Just like that.

Just like _Noct_.

Prompto let his hand drop along with any concerns about his barcode and busted out into another seriously wicked cover of _The Lion King._

…

Stella liked the kitties on the colorful box. She liked the lights and all the vibrant shades. Most of all, though, she liked watching them with the yellow-hair guy. He laughed a lot when he watched those kitties with her. Stella liked it when people laughed, but she liked the yellow-hair guy's laugh the best. It was sort of loud in her ears, and she could feel her whole body shake with it when he held her. It was a good laugh, the kind that made her happy.

He was laughing now, singing a song that the kitty on the colorful box was singing. His voice was also loud, but it was a good loud. Stella liked the song a lot, and she also liked that the yellow-hair guy was having fun. His fun made her want to have fun too, a fun that _had_ to come out. She bounced up and down in the yellow-hair guy's lap and kicked her legs to let some of it out, but there was still too much in her belly. She laughed to let more out and clapped. That helped some more. She kept doing it until the singing stopped. The music was still going, but nobody made sounds anymore. That almost made her sad, but the yellow-hair guy grabbed her arms before she could think about it and swayed her back and forth.

This was still fun! He still had fun even when she started to get sad. That was why she liked the yellow-hair guy so much.

When the singing started again and he joined in, Stella's happiness bubbled up. She wanted to try it too! As loudly as she could, Stella started to sing. She felt just like one of the kitties! She and the yellow-hair guy were both just like them! She was so pleased that they were both singing like big, golden cats that she didn't even feel sad when the song ended. With a happy laugh, Stella kicked her legs in celebration. They had done such a good job! They were cats now!

The yellow-hair guy was laughing too, the bright one that made Stella smile. He looked down at her and said something, then held up his hand toward her.

He was letting her have it? That was nice! She liked to suck on things. It reminded her of eating—one of her most favorite things in the whole world.

She reached up and took his hand, putting it in her mouth. It was sort of salty. That was fine. It felt nice to chew on anyway—it made her teeth not hurt so much. They'd been doing that a lot recently. Stella wished they wouldn't. It hurt, and it made her sad. She couldn't have fun when her teeth hurt. And eating. Eating was hard when her—

Ooh! What was _that?_

Stella pulled the yellow-hair guy's hand out of her mouth so she could look at the weird thing she found on his wrist. It was all black and scribbly, just like those marks they drew on that other guy—the one with those pretty, shiny things on his face—when he was asleep one time. That had been fun!

This mark was nice too. Stella liked the lines. She pet them with one finger, trying to make that digit fit in one of those lines. It did. Stella made sounds of admiration, hoping the yellow-hair guy would know how much she liked his drawing.

He said something to her, but… He sounded sad. Did he not like the drawing? She laughed, hoping to make him happy again. He didn't laugh back.

Well, this was a _bad_ drawing then. Stella would have to make it go away. Maybe she could scare it away by poking it? Nope. It didn't even move a little, little bit.

She could scrub it off. That worked for the tall guy with the shiny things on his face when he cleaned stuff. She'd seen him do it a bunch.

Stella tried rubbing the mark. She was going to make it _erase, erase, erase!_ She scrubbed it very, very hard, but it _still_ wouldn't come off.

Oh! Maybe she needed to wash it first. If she got it wet, she could rub it off like dirt in the bathtub! She didn't have a bathtub…

But if she chewed on things they got wet!

Stella put her mouth on the drawing, making sure to get it nice and covered in wet. Perfect. The yellow-hair guy said something else, but she didn't pay attention. She needed to scrub, scrub, scrub!

Oh, no. It didn't come off! Stella frowned at the mark. She couldn't figure this out. She needed help.

She looked up at the yellow-hair guy and slapped the drawing to get his attention, then asked him what to do. This was all very confusing!

The yellow-hair guy replied to her, but he just sounded sad again! Maybe he didn't know how to get it off either, and that's why he was sad about it. Stella got sad too when she didn't know how to do things.

This was very bad. He couldn't make the drawing go away, and neither could she! And if he had one on _this_ hand, didn't that mean he had to have one on the other hand too? That was how this worked, right?

Stella dropped the wrist she'd been holding and picked up his other one, but she didn't see another mark. How did that make sense? She twisted the hand around and turned her head to the side to see better, but still there was no drawing!

She asked the yellow-hair guy where the other one was? He had two hands, so he should have two drawings, one for each wrist. That was the way everything worked.

He said something back, then put both his hands together to show her one wrist with a drawing, and one without.

Stella looked between them both. This didn't make sense anymore! She was starting to get frustrated…

Then the yellow-hair guy started to laugh, and told her something in his happy voice.

Hooray! She'd fixed the problem! Stella wasn't sure just what she'd done, but it worked. He wasn't sad anymore, so Stella didn't care about the drawing anymore either.

That was good, because the kitties on the colorful box had started to sing again, and they needed to join in!

…

She was crying again.

Ignis cracked an eye open to the familiar but dark and blurry interior of his room and rolled over to face the crib pushed up against the far wall. He fumbled for his glasses on the side table for a second, then felt them, cold and smooth against his hand. He slipped them on, blinking.

There was Stella, nothing but a squirming mass under her blankets, small arms waving about in her severe displeasure as she wailed.

Ignis sighed, sliding out of his bed and throwing aside the sheets as he brushed errant strands of hair from his face. The two of them had played this game quite a deal more often than he would have liked since Noct and Lady Lunafreya had departed, and the advisor had come to expect the interruptions in his sleep by now, as irritating as they might be. It was hardly the most pleasant of duties, seeing to the princess when she got like this, but Ignis had promised the royal couple that he would take care of their daughter, even when it meant he had to get up in the middle of the night.

Well… There was that, and the rather glaring fact that Ignis wouldn't be getting back to _sleep_ with all Stella's wailing.

The advisor walked quietly over to the crib and peered down into it at the kicking, thrashing, crying figure, wondering what in Eos was upsetting her _this time._

With a barely-contained sigh, Ignis reached down and picked up the princess, asking in a long-suffering voice, "What is it you require now, Highness?"

The baby's response was a _glare._ Ignis was taken somewhat aback by the severity of that look. He'd never seen a malicious expression of that caliber on a child of six months before. That glare was on level with the kind that Noct sent his way when the advisor forced him to eat vegetables or get up early in the mornings.

In a word: Venomous.

"I daresay, Princess," Ignis said in reply to that look, "that you might try to communicate your displeasure in a more reasonable fashion."

Stella screeched at him and began kicking her deceptively hard adolescent legs against his stomach, even going so far as to squirm and push at his shoulders as if she were trying to get away. It was all Ignis could do to keep a hold on her. She was being tremendously unpleasant, but that didn't mean he was about to drop the heir of the Lucian throne on her head because of it.

"Now, Stella," he told her severely as she continued to scream at him, "this is most unbecoming of you. Do try to— _oof!_ —contain yourself!"

Stella, of course, didn't listen to a word of it. She kept on wailing and kicking like the world was coming to an end. Ignis could hardly begin to guess at what was wrong with her. This wasn't the kind of behavior she exhibited when she was hungry or messy or even when her new-grown teeth were bothering her. She hadn't even been this upset on the first night she had been here! This was a complete rebellious cacophony of pure derision, seemingly directed at Ignis himself, and the advisor couldn't make heads or tails of it. A deep stone of worry buried in the chamberlain's stomach as Stella continued to thrash, and he wondered if she had come down with some serious illness or somehow gotten hurt without his knowing.

Suddenly considerably concerned, Ignis carried the thrashing baby to the living room where the light was better so he could… do what exactly? Examine her? He would never consider himself to be a physician, and even if he had, there was nothing noticeably wrong with Stella besides her incessant screeching and violent escape attempts from the cage of his arms.

Helplessly, Ignis started pacing in front of the large window in the room that looked out at Insomnia that appeared as nothing but glittering lights and ribbons of neon streets from this height. He couldn't think of anything else to do but walk back and forth, holding the baby close as she squirmed, and patting her reassuringly on the back.

"There now, Stella," he said quietly, "we'll figure this out."

He wasn't sure _how_ he was going to do that, but he thought it best to reassure her.

Curiously, however, the words seemed to calm the princess—enough that she stopped trying to push him away at least.

Ignis glanced sidelong at her, hoping against the odds that the princess was starting to tire, but her eyes were wide open and she was still sniffling. He couldn't explain it, but something in the princess' attitude reminded him a bit of Noct in that moment. Maybe it was the way her blue eyes seemed to hold a deep melancholy, or the way she seemed to be angry with him even as she clutched tightly on to him. It was the way Noct had always looked when Ignis would comfort him after one of his nightmares in the months following the Marilith attack; the way he had looked on that day when news of Insomnia's fall had reached them.

The way he looked when he learned of his father's death.

And in a single second, Ignis understood what was wrong with the young princess, ashamed that he hadn't thought of it sooner.

"You miss them dearly, Highness," he stated, patting the baby's back again as he came to a stop beside the window, the distant lights of the Crown City casting strange, golden patterns on himself and Stella.

The princess looked up at him, almost as if she had understood, and stopped sniffling. Her hands held tight to the shoulder of his shirt and she made a small, inquiring noise. She seemed _expectant_ almost, like she was waiting for the advisor to continue.

"They haven't abandoned you, Stella," he explained, praying silently that, even though the words themselves couldn't reach the princess, the meaning would. "Noct and—your _parents_ , I mean—love you too much for that. It… may be hard to see at times, especially when you aren't pleased with one another, but they truly do. Do not doubt for a moment that they wouldn't go to the ends of the earth for your happiness, Princess."

He paused, wondering if he should go on—explain _why_ Noct and Lady Lunafreya were gone. He wasn't sure if it really mattered in the long run, for Stella couldn't _truly_ understand him, but she seemed comforted by his voice, if nothing else, and besides that, Ignis had always believed that honesty was the best policy.

He went on.

"Their absence is merely temporary, Highness. As much as they love you, I believe it is no secret to you or I that you can be a bit… vexing at times, and they needed a respite. Perhaps things would be different if they only had you to worry about, but your mother and father also have a kingdom to run in addition to caring for you, their first child.

"But I think—no, I _know—_ that more than anything they're exhausted because they spend so much time with you. I did not mean it in a negative way. I am only insinuating that they both want so desperately to be with you as often as they can that they push themselves too hard and take much too little time for themselves."

Ignis paused, a smile tilting his lips at the thought. How many days had he seen Noct working furiously to finish all his duties so he could spend time with his daughter? He drove himself so hard to give Stella what Regis couldn't give him so many years ago. Noct had told Ignis once, in a rare moment of blunt sincerity, that he was determined to make sure Stella never doubted, as he once had, that her father loved her. That he would keep his promises, even if affairs of state got in the way. Lady Lunafreya, though she hadn't said as much to Ignis, obviously felt the same, showering her affection on Stella. She'd lost her own mother when she was young, and wanted to be sure that she and the princess didn't miss a moment together.

That was why they were gone, why they needed a break so desperately. They had loved themselves to exhaustion. It was equal parts a comical and touching reason to take a vacation.

The chamberlain turned back to Stella with those thoughts in mind and concluded, "They love you too much to stay away, Highness, even if they wanted to. As… As do I."

He fell silent, staring out the window. It was true, Ignis realized. As much as Stella seemed to enjoy tormenting him, as much trouble as she caused, the advisor would never be able to keep away from her. Just like he couldn't keep away from Noct even when he groused about vegetables and waking up in the mornings, or Prompto when he sang loudly about Chocobos and how he needed to take "just _one more_ selfie," or Gladio when his quick temper snapped and he insisted that Cup Noodles were better than home cooking. It irritated him, and they might argue and rib at one another, but like or not, they were a family. A strange one, one that wasn't related by blood or social standing. Nothing but a bond formed on an open road, in a car traveling the country, in an old Coleman tent that hardly fit them all, around a campfire on the night before the end of everything.

They were a family, and somehow, under his very nose, Stella had wiggled her way into that family.

No, Ignis wouldn't be able to stay away from the princess now, not even if he wanted to.

Stella reached up and patted his face. Surprised, Ignis looked down at her, not expecting the sudden contact. She was smiling at him, a sleepy, blissful smile that just barely showed her two, tiny tooth nubs, her eyes half closed. With a warm chuckle, Ignis planted a kiss on the top of her head before shifting her to a more comfortable position in his arms.

"Come on then, Highness," he said as the princess gave vent to a gargantuan yawn, "it's high time we got you to bed."

…

Stella was lonely.

She didn't like being in the dark in this strange room that wasn't her own. She didn't like looking through the bars of her bed and seeing that weird-voice man sleeping right near her. She didn't want him to be there. She wanted her Mama and Daddy. _They_ were supposed to be there in their big bed, but they weren't. She was stuck with the guy who had the funny voice and the shiny things on his face. She didn't know why her parents were gone or why they'd left her here with him. Was he her new Daddy? She didn't want him to be. She liked her _old_ Daddy, the one with the flat kind of voice that didn't sound funny, and the beard that tickled her face when he kissed her.

She missed her Mama too. She sort of liked the silver-hair lady that visited sometimes, but she wasn't at all like her _real_ Mama. Her Mama was much more quiet, with yellow hair and a pretty voice that she used when she sang to Stella.

She didn't understand why they'd left her all alone and wouldn't come back. It was dark and lonely here, and she was so, _so_ tired of listening to that guy's weird-sounding voice and having to be around him. Didn't he know that she wanted her parents back?

Stella began to cry. She was just _so lonely_ that she couldn't hold in all the sadness. She didn't want to be here anymore! She wanted Mama and Daddy! She wanted to sleep with them tonight and not alone next to the weird-voice man.

She couldn't stop crying. It was loud crying just like she wanted it to be. She was really upset, and it made her feel better when she cried louder. And maybe if she was loud enough, her parents would hear and take her away back to her old room with them.

But they didn't come. And the more she realized that they _weren't_ there, the sadder Stella felt, and the louder she had to cry to make herself feel better. It wasn't helping too much, but she didn't know how to make it better when Mama and Daddy weren't here.

The sound she made was so loud that she didn't even hear when the weird-voice guy walked over to her, but when he suddenly picked her up and said something in his stupid voice, Stella ceased her crying just to glare at him. She felt very, very angry right now. She was so mad at the weird-voice man who was replacing her Mama and Daddy. It had been a long, long time since she'd seen them, and she was tired of looking at this other guy with his funny hair, shiny eye things, and pointy face. And she was so, _so_ tired of his voice. He didn't talk like other people, and he always sounded sort of annoyed all the time.

Stella didn't like it anymore. He _wasn't_ her Daddy. Why didn't he understand that she didn't want to see him anymore? She wanted her parents!

When he said something else to her, sounding a little bit angry again, Stella found that she was very upset with him. She didn't want him to hold her!

So she yelled at him. People did that when they were angry, didn't they? It would make him go away if she told him she was mad.

But he didn't.

Why wasn't he doing what she wanted!? She yelled some more, telling him to go away and bring her Mama and Daddy back. She kicked him and pushed him away, but he didn't let go.

Why was he being so mean? He was a _bad_ weird-voice man!

He kept talking to her, but Stella screamed louder so she wouldn't have to hear him anymore. She was _angry!_ Why didn't he listen to her?

The man carried her out of her room as she kept on crying and telling him over and over to let go. He didn't say anything else as he walked over to the window. That was good. At least he was listening now. Now maybe he would do what she was _trying_ to tell him and…

He started walking back and forth in front of the window.

Stella yelled _less_ loudly. She couldn't help it. She was distracted. What he was doing reminded her a little bit of Daddy. Sometimes she couldn't get to sleep even when she was really tired, and she remembered that Daddy would pick her up when that happened and walk in front of the big window in _his_ room and point at things outside and tell her about them until she could fall asleep. She'd always liked that. She sometimes tried to learn the names of the things Daddy pointed at, but mostly she just liked to hear him talk. It always made her feel safer.

Did the weird-voice man know about that? He was sort of doing the same thing right now. He wasn't pointing to things, but he did say something to her as he walked back and forth. Huh. He didn't sound annoyed when he said it either. He actually seemed sort of… nice. Maybe he thought that she just couldn't sleep. He was trying to be like her Daddy! That made Stella feel a little bit less lonely somehow.

She still wasn't that happy, but she didn't want the weird-voice man to put her down now, not when he was being nice and didn't sound angry with her. It wasn't _so_ bad, she guessed. It was better than lying in bed and feeling all alone.

The weird-voice man looked at her when she stopped trying to push him away, those shiny things that he always wore on his face looking extra sparkly in the light from the window.

Then he talked to her, and his funny voice didn't sound quite so strange at that moment. It was much quieter, a little bit sad, and a lot bit caring.

It sounded sort of like her Daddy's. Just a little.

Stella stopped crying. She looked up at the man's face and held on tight to him. She didn't want him to go away anymore. When he talked like that, she didn't feel lonely, and Stella liked that. She told him—real nicely this time—to keep talking. He wasn't showing her things out the window like Daddy, but his voice… Well, it was still weird, but for some reason it _did_ make her feel safe.

This time, he listened to her. He talked. He went on for a long, long time, saying things that Stella couldn't begin to understand, but that didn't matter. Because the whole time he spoke, his voice seemed to tell her how much he cared. That made Stella happy, and even sort of sleepy.

She didn't stop him, and she hung on tight while he kept staring out the window, and when he finally finished, Stella didn't know why she'd been so angry at him before.

She reached up as far as her arm would go, and patted his face. He was nice. She didn't know how to tell him "thank you" for making her feel not so lonely, so all she could do was smile when he looked at her. People did that when they were happy. She knew that.

The man with the weird-but-not-bad voice laughed a little bit—a nice sound—and kissed her head, the same way Mama and Daddy did, and then said something else.

Yep. His voice really _did_ sound funny, and no, he wasn't her Mama or her Daddy, but Stella guessed that maybe…

Maybe he was okay.

 **Whew! 6400 words! I meant to get this out sooner, but muse it a fickle thing…**

 **I hope I did Stella justice because it is _hard_ to write from a baby's point of view. Fun, but hard. I know this wasn't a very humorous chapter, but I was aiming to explore the relationship between Stella and the guys a bit, as well as getting her perspective on them. If all goes well, we'll be back to some more randomness next time!**


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